


Soldier, Sniper Spy (cont'd)

by subtlesinner



Series: Soldier, Sniper, Spy [2]
Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU Fan Fiction, Clintasha - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MF, Major Character Injury, NSFW, OT3, Oral Sex, PTSD, bucky and natasha bonding, bucky/nat - Freeform, buckynat - Freeform, clint/bucky/nat, deaf!Clint, mmf, showering together, threesome fic, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlesinner/pseuds/subtlesinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6 months have passed since James has last seen Clint and Natasha. He's planning to stay with them for Clint and Natasha's first weekend off work in just as long. But, paradise can't last, and ripples from Clint's past are about to resurface; how will James and Natasha fare when Clint's world comes crashing down?</p><p>AU Clint/Bucky/Nat OT3 Fic, This is a sequel piece to my other fic, Soldier, Sniper, Spy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why Am I Such a Fool Over You?

James could feel the butterflies in his stomach doing cartwheels as he pressed the button to alert Clint and Natasha that he was waiting for them on the stoop of the apartment building address they had given him. Steve and Sam watched him from the street, pulling their winter coats tightly around them as an icy gust of wind kicked up a little of the fresh powder that had settled there a few hours before. The intercom buzzed loudly; Bucky couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he heard the familiar voice distorted through the tinny speaker ask,

“Who is it?”

“The Russian all-time-champion of Hide and Go Seek.” James replied, his smile growing larger as the lock on the door released, allowing him to step into the stairwell and out of the cold. James held the door open, turning back to look at Sam and Steve, who were smiling and waving at him.

“We’ll head back to the hotel, now.” Steve said, his expression much lighter than James would have ever guessed. “I’ve got my cell, just call me if you need anything, alright?” Bucky nodded, pulling his sleek, expensive new cell phone (a gift from Clint and Natasha, to replace his old broken one) and gesturing with it in Steve’s direction. 

“Got it.” James answered. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning to check-in.”

“Have fun! And don’t forget to use protection!” Sam shouted, causing Steve’s ears and cheeks to go scarlet, even in the bitter cold. Bucky laughed, finally waving one last time and closing the door behind him. 

James looked around him as he began to warm up at the bottom of an old-looking iron and wooden staircase that sprawled upward next to him.

“James!” Natasha’s voice greeted James from a few levels above him. “We’re on the fourth floor. I’ll meet you halfway!” Her voice sounded like music to James’s ears; he began climbing up the surprisingly sturdy steps, taking them two at a time without effort.

“Natalia!” James greeted, scooping Natasha into a tight embrace when they finally reached each other between the second and third floors. “Kai ty, dorogaya?” (How are you, darling?) Natasha looked up at him, not breaking his embrace as she touched their foreheads together for a moment before she replied,

“I missed you, James.” He smiled, his eyes trained on her face.

“I missed you too.” James answered, finally breaking his embrace to cup Natasha’s cheeks with his palms, and kissing her sweetly.

A female voice cleared her throat from behind them, making Natasha and James jump apart quickly. James’s cheeks burned as the dark-skinned woman stared at them with her arms crossed, one eyebrow perked up with interest.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asked, continuing to look James up and down. Natasha’s stomach dropped quickly, when she immediately knew what the other woman was thinking.

“Uh… hey, Simone…” Natasha said, unsure of whether or not to address the elephant in the room. 

“Hi, Natasha.” Simone answered, her voice cold, untrusting. Natasha sighed, before deciding to attempt to break the tension that was quickly forming in the stairwell.

“This is James,” Natasha introduced, growing uncharacteristically flustered. “He’s going to be staying with Clint and I while we have the weekend off.”

“Is that so?” Simone asked, her tone dry. Clint opened his apartment door a few floors above, and walked to the banister in the hallway, leaning forward to see Simone, Natasha and James standing in the middle of the stairs.

“What’s taking you so long?” Clint called down, “Dinner’s almost ready! Hurry up!”

James, having recovered from the momentary shock, hefted his suitcase further onto his shoulder and resumed his upward climb, Natasha mumbled goodbye to Simone and turned to follow him. 

Before they even reached the next floor, James heard Simone grab her phone out of her pocket and dial Clint’s number quickly, apparently from memory. James laughed to himself, wondering exactly how Clint was going to act when he heard about him kissing Natasha in the middle of the stairwell. 

When Natasha finally swung open the door to Clint’s apartment, James could hear Clint’s speakerphone blaring loudly from the kitchen, Simone’s voice echoing off the walls.

“-You’re lucky I didn’t have the boys with me, Clint! They’re too young for that kind of information about your personal life-“ James looked at the ground, disappointment clear on his face as Clint turned around, phone in hand, beaming at him.

“I’m sorry, Simone. It won’t happen again, I promise.” She huffed at him quietly, before finally calming down some.

“Please, see that it does, Clint. You know how we care about you, I just wanted to make sure nothing was happening behind your back.”

“Well, I appreciate the thought,” Clint answered, “But I need to be going. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone quickly, setting it on the countertop next to him and walking toward James, his arms outstretched and a big goofy grin plastered on his face.

“James!” Clint bear-hugged the younger man tightly, James returning the embrace with equal enthusiasm. “It’s so good to see you. God, I’ve missed you.” After a moment of squeezing each other tightly, James kissed Clint on the cheek; Clint’s grin seemed to stretch even wider.

“I’ve missed you, too, Clint!” Suddenly, the water Clint had boiling on the stove began to hiss and bubble over, sending a blast of steam out from under the lid of the pot. 

“Ah!” Clint gasped, slipping past James to tend to the stovetop once more. “Well, make yourself comfortable, James! Natasha will show you where to put your things.” 

***

Clint, Natasha and James were circled around Clint’s kitchen counter, sitting on tall chairs as they ate their meal casually. James wanted badly to catch up with them; their weekly phone calls just weren’t enough for James to feel as involved in their lives as he desperately wanted to be. Clint and Natasha seemed more interested in directing the conversation back to James, which frustrated him some, though he didn’t want to admit it.

“How are things going back home?” Clint asked, taking a drink from his glass of water before shoveling another heaping forkful of meat and vegetables into his mouth. “Has everything been alright, since we’ve been gone?” James’s jaw set a little stiffer, but he answered Clint’s question, nonetheless.

“Things are… pretty much the same as they were before.” He shrugged, “I go to shrinks twice a week, and meetings a couple times a month, too… Same old, same old.” Natasha put a gentle hand on his shoulder to show her support.

“I thought you guys were going to talk about changing some of that around?” Clint asked, his brows furrowing in frustration.

“Just because he promised to talk about it, didn’t mean he promised to actually change anything. Getting the new phone from you, and being able to visit you, here in the city… These are big, big steps Steve has feared for a long time.” James sighed, “He’s family, and he loves me. I know he doesn’t want to back off on the treatments because he cares about me. He doesn’t want to see me become who I was before, and I don’t blame him.”  

Clint cleared his throat, exchanging a nervous glance with Natasha, before Natasha changed the subject casually, asking,

“So, are Steve and Sam together now?” The question distracted James, who gratefully accepted the segue. He laughed when he replied, and Clint finally remembered to breathe again.

“Oh my god, they actually are.” James couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “At first, Steve tried to play it off like they weren’t seeing each other, and that Sam was just over a lot because he was worried about me after the relapse, but…” His eyes dropped to the table for a second before he picked up again, “I caught them making out on the porch a couple of months ago. I didn’t think it was possible for Steve to turn as red as he did… I’m never gonna let him live it down.” James smiled again, his sly, lopsided grin lighting up his features. Clint laughed along with James, slapping his knee when the other man mentioned catching the two together.

“Good for them.” Natasha said thoughtfully, “Sam seems like a pretty great guy. I think it’ll be good for the two of them to spend some time together.”

“So what about you two?”James asked with interest, “Anything big happen in your lives that I should know about?” Clint and Natasha exchanged a glance before Clint tried to answer.

“Well, work is… complicated. We can’t really tell you very much, but as you can tell, we’ve been really, really busy…” Clint sighed. “I wish this could have happened so much sooner…” His look on his face was completely serious, when Clint put his hand on James’s, “It’s so good to see you, Bucky.”

***

Pausing momentarily, James laughed lightly as he noticed the trail of discarded clothing that had developed behind them as he, Clint and Natasha had slowly made their way through Clint’s apartment and toward the master bedroom. One moment, Clint had been washing the dishes intently, and whistling along with a song that was playing on the television, while Natasha and James sat entangled together on Clint’s oversized, comfortable couch. James had sat down on the couch first, sinking into the cushions, stretching out his legs, and sighing contentedly before Natasha eyed him carefully, asking consent to sit with him without actually verbalizing it. James nodded appreciatively, patting the cushion next to him and lifting his arm to allow her to cuddle up close to him. Natasha obliged, slipping her toned, slim legs between his muscular thighs, and folding her body to contour against his, his arm hanging lazily over her shoulder as she leaned against the arm rest on the couch.

With Natasha in such close proximity, James couldn’t help but want to pick things up where they’d been forced to cut off so abruptly in the stairwell. James couldn’t stop himself from brushing his lips against her shoulder as he breathed in the familiar smell of her perfume, coupled with the clean scent of shampoo in her hair and the warmth of her skin against his lips. James groaned, his voice low and husky when Natasha turned her face toward his, a small smile playing at her lips as she looked back at him. Before he could think about it anymore, he was kissing her; Natasha laughed into his mouth, returning his kiss with fervor as Clint finally finished washing the last of the dishes. 

Clint walked out of the kitchen and laughed out loud when he noticed James and Natasha making out on his couch. He cleared his throat, waiting for one of them to notice him, but James and Natasha continued well after they realized he was watching because they knew Clint would get jealous and antsy immediately.

“Uh… Didn’t you two get enough of that in the hallway, already?” James actually did break away for a moment, lifting his finger to quiet Clint before replying,

“No, actually. We got interrupted, remember?” Natasha continued kissing James’s neck as he spoke, and James had to work hard to suppress his laughter when Natasha pulled his face back toward hers, and Clint made a noise James couldn’t quite identify.

“C’mon, guys!” Clint whined, but James couldn’t be bothered when Natasha was slipping her tongue temptingly into his mouth. He groaned when Natasha shifted in his lap, pushing him to lie down on the couch, and moving to straddle his hips when Clint cleared his throat loudly. James scooped Natasha’s thighs into his arms and lifted her from his lap, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist as he lifted her off of the couch. James looked back at Clint with one eyebrow raised, and Clint couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight; Natasha had kissed a small trail of light hickeys down James’s neck, and his lips were pink and just slightly swollen from kissing Natasha. With a satisfied smile, Natasha turned to look back at Clint, her green eyes clouded with a look of pure and utter want. Clint shivered, unable to keep the smile off his face as he stripped off his shirt and let it fall to the ground in front of them. Natasha frowned when James eased her to the ground reverently, continuously glancing back at Clint; Natasha loved to see the two men like this- they were so fully and unequivocally in love with one another, Natasha adored the precious gift that was Clint and James’s complicated romantic relationship.

James and Clint were kissing now, decidedly more physical and heated than James’s teasing kisses with Natasha had been. James had Clint pinned against the wall with one leg wedged between Clint’s, his arms holding Clint’s biceps in place as he attacked the archer’s mouth hungrily. Clint growled back, his voice low and tight when James applied just a little more pressure with his thigh, pushing Clint against the wall just that much harder

“You should-“ Clint panted, “Ah- Lose the shirt-“ He continued, grasping breathily at the hem of James’s warm, heavy flannel shirt with his limited range of motion. James rolled his eyes, but relented, allowing Clint to move long enough for him to hoist the offending garment over his shoulders and head. Natasha swallowed, remembering to close her mouth as she took in the incredible sight that was James Bucky Barnes shirtless. It had been far too long since she’d seen him in person, and Clint appeared to feel the same way when James laughed at Clint’s gaping mouth. Natasha felt odd being the only person still fully-clothed in the room as the men began to kiss each other again, slower this time. She cleared her throat, tracing one finger up James’s bare spine, over his shoulder blade and down his arm, and leading both men into the bedroom before beginning to undress slowly in front of them. James bit his lip, stopping her and exchanging a devious glance with Clint.

“Wait, Natalia.” Clint grinned at the nickname, despite the unsettlingly heavy Russian accent James took on when he said it “Let me do it.” He stared at Clint as he said it, and Natasha shivered with excitement, “I want to put on a little show for Clint.”

Clint sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing his jeans (which were growing uncomfortable rather quickly) as he watched James’s hands slowly roam over every inch of Natasha’s body with care. Natasha breathed in quickly when James slipped his hands under her shirt and up the small of her back, hooking his fingers under the folds of the top and slipping it easily over her head to reveal her black lace bra underneath.

James dropped the shirt to the floor and moved to kneel down in front of her, his metal and flesh fingers working together to un-fasten her jeans, his fingertips gently unzipping them and dipping under the fabric as it began to open in front of him.

“Mmmm,” Natasha purred, encouraging James to continue his explorations as he eased the denim down past her thighs, over her knees and finally settling them on the ground. Natasha leaned on him, her hand on his shoulder as she stepped out of the pants; her matching bra and panties were all that remained for James to remove, but he hesitated for a moment, opting to kiss her thighs gently and allowing his hands to caress her smooth skin instead. Clint watched, licking his lips when Natasha arched into James’s touch as his hands cupped her ass, his lips still skimming the insides of her thighs with kisses and the occasional slow, teasing nibble. Clint craved to be touched, watching James’s kisses and bites moving slowly closer and closer to Natasha’s core, until James finally pressed his mouth against her center, making her gasp out loud at the warmth of the contact. “Ah! James-“ Natasha cried, making Clint’s mouth go dry. After another teasing swipe of his tongue, James finally unclasped Natasha’s bra, revealing her breasts to the cold air, briefly cupping them with his hands, and rolling his thumbs over her nipples teasingly before he moved his hands back to her hips to remove her last article of clothing, exposing her for Clint to see.

James glanced over his shoulder long enough to wink at Clint before he pulled Natasha closer to him, sliding his tongue over her and making her squirm at his touch. Natasha twined her fingers in his long hair, as James slid his fingers into her folds gently, Natasha guiding his efforts and encouraging him enthusiastically with the catch in her voice and the hitch in her breath as he began to move with her, carefully.

“James-“ Natasha breathed, gasping as he crooked his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot, “Ah- There-“ He continued, sucking her sensitive clit and teasing it with his tongue as he continued to curl his fingers slowly. Natasha began to come apart in front of him, teasing her own nipples as James continued his ministrations, and closing her eyes in ecstasy. “Oh fuck-“ Natasha cursed, her thighs shaking as she came; her muscles twitched as they pulsed around James’s fingers, but he continued to lick her slowly, coaxing an additional wave of pleasure out of Natasha’s shaking form. James stood, kissing Natasha passionately and allowing herself to taste her own arousal on his soft, warm lips. 

Clint couldn’t stop himself anymore, leaning back on the bed to fumble with the button on his jeans, but he groaned when he immediately felt James’s hands on top of his, teasing Clint through his jeans, and stopping Clint from continuing any further.

“Ah, ah, Clint.” James tutted, and Clint marveled at the brunette, feeling his head spin a little when he recognized the some of the cocky attitude that made him fall in love with the younger man so many years before, “Now, it’s your turn.” James was on top of him before Clint realized what was happening, straddling Clint’s lap and grinding against his hips steadily as he kissed Clint once again. Clint knew how starved for physical attention James must have been, but his thoughts trailed off when James’s tongue slid between his lips, Natasha’s familiar taste light on his lips. Clint groaned in protest when James unzipped his pants and broke their kiss, beginning to slide them over Clint’s hips.

“Just relax, Clint.” James said, his voice low and gravelly as he looked up at him from his position between Clint’s legs. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

***

“Fuck-“ James loved the way Clint sounded when he was almost at his limit, panting and begging like James hadn’t heard in months. Natasha watched with interest as she walked back into the bedroom, sidling up beside James to kiss the side of his neck and whisper encouragements into his ear as he slid his tongue up the length of Clint’s cock teasingly before taking it as far down his throat as he could, eliciting another strangled gasp in response. “Ah-“ Clint sucked in a breath, trying his damnedest not to thrust into the other man’s mouth when he heard his mobile phone ringing from the kitchen, the flat surface of the table amplifying the vibration as his ringtone blared.

“Shit.” Clint cursed as James released Clint from his mouth with a slight pop, leaning on his heels to allow Clint to sit up.

“I’ll get it.” Natasha sighed, walking toward the kitchen. Clint was still breathing hard, half-tempted to ignore whoever was calling him and push James back into the bed, until Natasha swore too.

“Fuck.” She padded back into the room quickly, the ringtone finishing its last few notes as she tossed it to Clint, who caught it from behind James’s head without blinking. “It’s Nick.” Clint tossed his head back angrily, allowing the phone to drop onto the bed next to him.

“If it’s important, he’ll call again.” Clint said, pulling James closer to him and beginning to kiss him again roughly, but Clint’s phone began ringing again almost immediately. 

“Damn it.” Clint sighed, allowing James to climb off his lap as he picked up the phone.

“Hey, Fury. Can this wait? I’m kind of busy right now.” Fury’s voice was calm and somber when he answered.

“I’m sorry to intrude, Barton, I know this weekend leave was very important to you.”

“Well, that’s an understatement.” Clint sighed, “You make me and Nat work for almost six months straight, and when we finally arrange a weekend off-“ He began to complain, but Fury interrupted him, his voice growing firmer and more urgent as he tried to reign the sniper in.

“Barton,” He began, “There’s a problem developing that you need to know about, and I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

Natasha and James watched Clint’s facial expressions change swiftly as Fury’s voice spoke through the speaker into Clint’s ear. First, Clint looked annoyed, then shocked, followed quickly by confusion, pain and disbelief.

“It’s not possible…” Clint finally spoke after a long moment of silence, perpetuated as Natasha and James watched with bated breath. “I watched him die…” Clint’s voice broke as it trailed off, James and Natasha exchanging a quick glance.

Clint nodded as he verbally acknowledged Fury’s statements, finishing the call quickly. His face was an emotionless mask as he slowly let the hand still holding his phone to his ear drop to his side, limp.

It was a long, quiet minute before Clint swallowed hard and finally broke his silence, his voice raw and broken as a single, hot tear streaked down his cheek, but Clint brushed it away with his thumb.

“Barney... He’s alive.” Clint had to swallow again, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. “He was apparently trying to lay low, but a SHIELD satellite tagged him last night. 98% facial recognition match.” Clint was standing now, retrieving his discarded clothing and dressing himself hurriedly. Natasha and James remained on the bed, watching him withbewilderment.

“Where’re you going?” Natasha asked, her palms open and motioning toward herself and James; James’s jaw was clenched tightly when he realized Clint was leaving for what could be an indeterminate amount of time.

“I’ve been called in, Tasha. I can’t just tell him ‘no’, can I?” Clint’s tone grew harsh and defensive. “Besides, I’m the only one who can get Barney out of there in one piece. They’ve authorized full force, Nat. You know as well as I do, they’re gonna be shooting to kill.” Clint was very clearly distressed now, scrabbling to pull his heavy military-issue boots onto his feet one at a time and falling onto the bed when he lost his balance. It was James turn to sit, emotionless, as Clint prepared to leave him once again; James knew it wasn’t anything Clint had planned or hoped for, but it still hurt, nonetheless. His icy blue eyes clouded slightly, and Clint finally seemed to snap back to reality, momentarily.

“Fuck!” Clint cursed, sitting down on the bed, and settling his palm against James’s cheek gently. “I’m so sorry, James.” Clint’s hands were shaking, and James’s stomach twisted up uncomfortably when he saw the internal conflict clear on Clint’s face. James leaned into the touch, pressing his lips to Clint’s wrist and locking eyes with the dirty blonde’s frantic gaze.

“Do what you need to do, Clint. Just try to get back here as soon as you can.” James said, trying to put on a brave face for the other man’s sake. Natasha sat back against the headboard of the bed, her arms crossed angrily as she watched Clint pick up his phone and shoulder his already-packed bow and quiver near the bedroom door. Clint turned back one last time, leaning down to kiss James, a moment both wished could have lasted longer and longer as James yearned for something, anything, more he could scavenge before Clint left him behind once again. There was real pain in their eyes when Clint finally forced himself to break the kiss. He looked at Natasha, trying to get past the look of betrayal on her face, almost pleading with her before he finally pulled the phone to his ear and left the apartment hurriedly.

The last thing they could hear before Clint closed the door behind him was him speaking into the phone, his voice low and serious.

***

Clint walked down the stairs slowly, trying his best to listen to Fury’s instructions rattling in his ear, while his mind reeled uncontrollably. Clint elbowed the front door open, pulling his collar higher around his neck against the cold. He couldn’t concentrate when his boots crunched on the mix of rock salt and gravel that peppered the sidewalk beneath him; in his mind, all Clint could see was the horrifying nightmare version of his brother, bleeding out on the concrete in front of him.

“Barton-“ Clint snapped back to reality when he realized Fury’s voice was coming from the black SUV on the street in front of him, and not the earpiece of his phone. “Did you absorb anything I just said?” Fury sounded frustrated, but his expression softened considerably when he noticed how stock-still the normally happy-go-lucky agent had grown at the news of his brother’s re-appearance.

“I'm sorry, Sir?” Clint asked, trying to find his bearings again, Fury rolled his eye and swung the door open, motioning for Clint to join him in the back seat of the SUV.

“Get in, Barton.” Clint complied, pulling the door closed behind him and settling into the leather seat awkwardly. “Relax.” Fury’s voice was softer around the edges now, quieter than when he’d been barking orders just moments before. “We’re headed back to headquarters, then I’m sending you and the strike team to Trickshot’s last known location.” Clint almost flinched at the moniker, a name Barney had claimed from one of the bitter old bastards who had taken them in when they’d escaped to the circus as children.

“Where would that be, exactly?” He was breathing deeper now, clenching and unclenching his jaw nervously; Fury looked Clint up and down, observing the younger man’s unsettled appearance coupled with how jumpy he was at some of the louder noises of the city around them, and he hesitated. He hadn’t seen this Clint Barton in many years, Fury realized, recognizing some of Clint’s old ties resurfacing with the traumatic memories.

“Clint,” Fury looked genuinely concerned now. “If you need me to send someone else-“

“No.” Clint interrupted, his fists balling tightly. “It has to be me.” Clint swallowed before continuing, “He’ll kill anyone else who tries to get close.”

***

 


	2. As We Own This Night, I'll Put Your Body to the Test With Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and James find ways to occupy their evening while Clint is on assignment, and Clint reunites with an unexpected friend to find the truth behind Barney's inexplicable return from the dead. But will they find answers, or merely more questions? 
> 
> ***
> 
> Wow, I'm so sorry this one was super difficult to write for literally no reason. At least, from this point forward I've got an idea of where we're going now. Anyways, enjoy!

Natasha was so mad, she could have screamed when Clint walked out the door without looking back.

“Fucking Barney!” Natasha swore, looking immediately to James, trying to gauge his reaction. James sat on the edge of the bed looking shell-shocked and unmoving; Natasha sighed, moving to sit next to him and carding her fingertips through his hair gently. “I’m so sorry, James.” It took him a few moments to answer, shrugging when he finally admitted,

“I know it’s not like he planned it, or anything. Clint’s had two people close to him die and then miraculously re-appear in his life within the same year.” James was surprisingly frank as he spoke, “Having that happen even once has got to fuck with you. I just wish things could have turned out differently.” Natasha smiled sadly, knowing James was upset, but at the circumstances, not with Clint.

“Who says we can’t have a lovely weekend, just the two of us?” Natasha massaged James’s scalp, allowing him to lower it to rest on her shoulder, a small smile reappearing on his face. “Clint will just have to work extra hard to make it up to us when he gets back.”

***

Steve tapped his card key onto the counter before gesturing thanks to the check-in attendant standing in front of him. She smiled politely, wishing he and Sam a lovely stay, and informing them that there was a complimentary brunch available each morning. Steve nodded, turning back to Sam and smiling brightly. 

Sam adjusted his suitcase strap further onto his shoulder as Steve unlocked the door to their room. Unable to suppress a whoop when the door opened, Sam took a few steps into the room before dropping his suitcase on the floor in front of him, circling to get the full view of the suite.

“This is too much…” Steve said, bewildered as he took in the luxurious furniture and high-ceiling; Sam stepped into the bathroom, gasping when he saw the massive tiled shower, with glass doors. “It had to cost a fortune for the whole weekend.”

“Ask no questions, you’ll hear no lies.” Sam smiled, re-joining Steve, who was now sitting on the gigantic, soft bed. Steve sighed, his expression matching Sam’s as they took in the breathtaking view of the lights dotting the city skyline, blanketed in snow just outside their window.

***

Natasha worked hard to cheer James up some after the initial shock of Clint’s departure, an idea striking her in the moment.

“Did you bring a heavy coat? I want to take you around the city.” Natasha’s charm worked in her favor as James looked back at her, curious but hesitant at the same time. “C’mon, I’ll show you a good time. I promise.” James finally relented, nodding.

Natasha pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans before walking back into Clint’s living room. She froze a few steps past the door, her reflexes on edge until she spotted the source of the noise she’d heard. Natasha laughed, covering her face with her palm as she walked toward the window in Clint’s living room, sliding it open and allowing the purple-clad figure standing on the fire escape in from the cold.

“For God’s sake, Kate. You scared the shit out of me! Use the door, like a normal, civilized human being!” The young woman looked at the ground, embarrassed.

“Sorry, Natasha.” The redhead looked back at the younger woman, and crossed her arms across her chest. “Look, is Clint around? I’m looking for someone to bounce an idea off of.” Without warning, James walked out into the living room, only half-dressed in the jeans he’d been wearing earlier in the day. When he noticed the stranger in the living room, James froze in place, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh-“ He started, “I’m sorry… my, uh, my shirt is on the floor somewhere around here…” He trailed off awkwardly, Kate’s cheeks turning a shade of fuchsia so bright, Natasha wished she’d had the foresight to snap a picture for Clint to see later. “I didn’t realize we had company.”

“Kate,” Natasha sighed, “This is James.” Kate’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates with recognition.

“Ohmygodimsosorry-“ Kate shouted, her words running together hurriedly. “I completely forgot that was THIS weekend!”

“James,” Natasha continued, trying to hold back the laughter that was threatening to escape her cool demeanor. “Meet Kate Bishop. She’s Clint’s protege, of sorts.” James, still slightly embarrassed, smiled at Kate, who was still blushing like mad.

“Nice to meet you.” Kate said, unable to stop herself from the stream of nervous chatter rambling out of her mouth. “I’m sorry… Clint told me you were hot and all, but I didn’t realize he meant all-“ Kate motioned at James’s naked torso vaguely, “Adonis-y?” Now it was James’s turn to blush, immediately dropping to his hands and knees, retrieving his crumpled flannel shirt and turning away from the two women long enough to pull the shirt on over his head and shoulders. While his back was turned, Kate exchanged a glance with a very smug looking Natasha, mouthing “OH-MY-GOD” and a double thumbs-up while Natasha nodded in concession.

James extended a hand to shake hers, regretting it when he realized which one he’d done it with, to Kate’s credit, she accepted his handshake gracefully, and without question. James half-figured Clint had warned her about his arm in advance, as it frequently made new people uncomfortable, and unsure of how to act around him.

“Nice to meet you, Kate.” She stepped back, gesturing behind her with one thumb, smiling back at James and Natasha as she abruptly decided to leave.

“So, I’m sorry to ogle and run, but I’ve still got a problem to sort out, and you two look-“ she paused momentarily, “-busy.” Natasha laughed, before pointing down the hallway,

“I think Simone’s home.”

“Ok, thanks!” Kate said, quickly running out of the apartment and closing the door behind her.

“Well, that was… interesting.” James said, pulling on his socks, one foot at a time.

“It was better than I could have hoped for.” Natasha laughed heartily. “Now let’s go!”

***

James and Natasha walked slowly down the street, arm in arm; the chilled night air silent as the wind picked up particles of snow and whirled it around them like tiny dancing crystals in the soft glow of the streetlights overhead. James shivered, attempting to shift his collar higher around his neck against the breeze without removing his hands from the insides of his pockets. Natasha stopped, causing James to stop in place as well, their arms still linked at the elbows until Natasha pulled one hand out of her pocket.

“Are you too cold?” She asked, concerned.

“I’m alright.” James smiled, looking up at the sky, as giant, fluffy snowflakes started to drift down over them. “It’s so quiet… I never imagined New York City could be so still.”

“I love it.” Natasha smiled, joining James in looking at the cloudy sky overhead. “It reminds me of home.” James’s smiled dropped, just slightly.

“Do you miss it?” She looked back at him, questioningly. “Living in Russia?”

“Yes, and no.” Her face echoed James’s, a slight sadness tinged around the corners. “I’m much happier where I’m at now.” She fell quiet for a moment, wanting to ask something, but thinking better of it.

“If you want to ask me something, then do it. I’m not made of porcelain, dorogaya.” James stood in place, his hands still tucked in his pockets. Natasha nodded, swallowing before asking,

“Do you remember anything about it?” Natasha asked, her voice curious, but not imposing at the same time. “About the winters in Russia?” It took James a long time to respond; he chewed his lip, deep in thought.

“Just… flashes of things, here and there… little bits and pieces; scraps of memories that don’t really add up to anything that makes sense.” He thought a moment longer, “I remember the cold… And a lot of pain.” Natasha shivered, not entirely from the wind.

***

Clint turned the last corner of the hallway quicker than he should have, stumbling to avoid knocking over the poor, unsuspecting SHIELD agent who’d been walking just out of sight.

“S-sorry, A-agent Barton.” The young woman stammered.

“No, no-“ Clint interrupted, waiving her apology off, “It was all my fault.” He turned away quickly, stepping into the large, open hangar Nick had requested he report to. 

“Hey, Clint!” A familiar voice rang out from the open door of one of the larger aircraft sitting in front of him. Clint turned, surprised to see Bruce Banner standing on the tarmac in front of him, Tony Stark flanking him to his left.

“Bruce?” Clint asked, unsure of any reason for the doctor to have been involved with Barney’s reappearance.

It had been about a year since Clint had first met the charming young doctor; he and Natasha had been sent to escort Bruce on a mission to Burma that had gone awry when Bruce’s convoy was attacked. Bruce’s special abilities revealed themselves in a particularly tight spot, saving Clint and Natasha’s lives, as well as countless others, and they’d been fast friends ever since. “What’re you doing, here?”

“What, Fury didn’t tell you?” Tony Stark piped in, with his usual air of self-confidence.

“He might have.” Clint replied, earnestly. “To be honest, I’ve had a little trouble concentrating.” His voice was harrowed enough that Bruce’s eyebrows knitted together with concern. “It’s not every day a family member of mine comes back from the dead.”

“Come on in, Clint. I’ll catch you up to speed once we’re in the air.” Bruce motioned toward the airplane behind him.

“Are we waiting for anyone else?” Tony asked, looking around the hangar for any other agents who were looking for the right vessels to board.

Clint leaned against the table behind him, trying to relax as the Quinjet took off, Tony volunteering to pilot for the first leg of the journey while Bruce brought Clint up to speed on their mission.

“Alright.” Bruce started, his mouth twisting slightly with anxiety. “How much do you know right now?”

“All I really heard was…” Clint gulped, “That my brother Barney is alive.” Bruce bit his lip and nodded solemnly in confirmation. “But that’s not possible, doc. I watched him die. He bled out on the ground in front of me; all over me! He was pronounced dead by the paramedic! We had a funeral-” Clint’s calm demeanor cracked wide open, revealing his quickly fraying grasp on his nerves. “How the fuck is that possible?!” Bruce refused to break eye contact with his friend, trying to keep the man from falling apart completely.

“We honestly don’t know. But we intend to find out, that’s for sure.” Clint was quiet for a moment, regaining his composure before he asked,

“What have you found out?”

“A SHIELD facial recognition satellite tagged your brother in Brazil this afternoon.” Tony said, from the pilot’s seat.

Tony slid a video clip from a touchscreen at his left toward a screen on the paneled wall next to Clint. Clint’s jaw almost dropped when he saw the image. Even through all the briefings, Clint had held some kind of small doubt; some slim hope, that it wasn’t really Barney, that it was someone who just looked a lot like him. But, as Clint stared at the grainy video clip, he knew, without a doubt, it was his flesh and blood brother walking through the crowded city street.

 “He’s working as hired muscle for Malcom Sewell, a biochemical arms dealer I knew back in my… er, colorful past.” Tony finished awkwardly. “Right now, Barney’s believed to be operating under a false name, Anders Brusni.”

“Biochemical weapons?” Clint asked, his brows knitted together in confusion.

“That’s why I’m here, Clint.” Bruce answered, “We’ve heard rumors from an informant that confirm some suspicious activities we’ve been observing. We’ve been led to believe that there’s some kind of new, incredibly versatile pathogen he’s created. Some kind of super virus with an infection rate like no one’s ever seen before.”

“What the hell is Barney doing mixed up in all this?” Clint asked, more to himself than anyone else. Bruce watched Clint nervously, unsure of how to help his friend, who was clearly struggling.

***

“Do you want to head back yet?” Natasha asked, looking up at James, who was clearly shivering as the massive snowflakes continued to float down around them, settling on their hair and cheeks.

“Sure.” James said, trying to keep his teeth from chattering when he spoke. He didn’t want to admit it to Natasha, but he wasn’t used to the cold winters in New York; back home, it still snowed during the winter, but the storms were few and far between, and the temperatures were much milder. James gritted his teeth as they crossed the street and began to walk back toward the apartment building at the same leisurely pace. Without warning, James had to stop for a moment, wrenching his flesh hand out of his pocket to grip the metal arm tightly through his jacket; what remained of the appendage always seemed to be incredibly sensitive to the way the metal contracted with extreme cold. He sucked in air sharply, closing his eyes tight as he tried to keep from gasping out loud.

“Are you alright?” Natasha asked, feeling foolish when James was obviously experiencing some kind of extreme discomfort. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Let’s just keep going.” James said, when he could finally open his eyes again. “The sooner we’re back inside, the better.”

Natasha and James walked the next few blocks in silence, the snow drifting to the ground around them dampened the sounds of the city around them. Natasha walked next to James, watching him grit his teeth and flex his jaw uncomfortably, wishing she knew what to do to help him. She cleared her throat, catching James’s attention and stopping them briefly in the glow of a streetlight.

“Take my gloves,” She peeled her gloves off one at a time, handing them to James, who slid them onto his cold, stiff digits without complaint. “Hopefully that will help warm it up a little in the meantime.” James nodded gratefully, flexing his fingers to help increase blood flow to his painfully numb flesh fingertips.

“Thanks.” James sighed, “Sorry… I hate it when I get like this.” Natasha smiled, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets as he had done before,

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m glad I could help.”

***

Clint led the small strike team around the side of the building, motioning for the two men to his left to remain in place as he and two others scouted the other sides of the building for exits. When he’d convinced himself that he’d gotten a good grasp of his surroundings, Clint finally agreed to breach the door; he’d been hesitant, knowing his brother was already wrapped up in something far more dangerous than he’d care to admit… Clint sighed, shaking his head. It was just like Barney to go and cause some kind of trouble like this, even from beyond the grave. But he’s alive. Clint corrected himself, shaking his head to clear his mind once more. 

“Focus, Clint.” Tony Stark’s voice piped into his ear. “We’re seeing something on the third floor. Movement of some kind, but it’s hard to tell. Thermal signatures aren’t registering, for some reason.”

“Just getting my bearings.” Clint replied, breaching the door easily and immediately snapping into formation with the agents behind him, bow drawn. He was surprised when the stairwell was empty, but the squad continued, sweeping up the staircase as quickly and quietly as they could.

“Yeah, well get them faster-“ Tony began to say, but was interrupted by Bruce, his voice calm, but urgent.

“Clint, there’s an office overlooking the manufacturing floor on the next level. Something’s alive in there… but their heartbeat’s weak. They might be unconscious, or sedated…” Bruce trailed off, butClint understood. He rounded the next flight of stairs quickly, trying to steady his breath even as thoughts of his clothing clinging to him, sticky with hot, copper-smelling blood when he last saw his brother’s face… He gulped fresh air whilst still trying to retain his composure as they crossed the threshold of the third floor, opening up into a massive, open manufacturing floor, with an office up above them on the other end of the level. Clint sucked in air quickly, setting the squad’s pace at a quick run as they swept across the floor toward the office. 

“We’re closing in.” Clint reported, stepping onto the bottom step of the small staircase that led up to the small room. Clint stopped in his tracks, hearing some kind of rustling or thumping from up above him, but he couldn’t be sure he’d heard it. Lifting his closed fist into the air behind him, Clint signaled for the rest of the group to hang back as he slowly stepped up to the top step of the staircase, anxiously, painstakingly turning the knob on the office door; it swung easily on its hinges, and Clint’s heart thudded in his chest. He stood in the door just long enough to realize what he was seeing and hearing all in the same fraction of a moment; in the center of the room, a terrified looking man was strapped to a chair with duct tape, a suitcase explosive sitting in his lap with an initiation system that lead wires along the floor to the door, where Clint assumed a sensor had been tripped when he opened it. Within a fraction of a second, Clint heard the click of the ignition system, turned on his heel and tried to warn the others still standing behind him. The bomb burst, simultaneously as he jumped headlong down the staircase and bellowed as loud as he could,

“GET DOWN-“ 

***

James rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them with friction as he waited in the hallway for Natasha to open Clint’s apartment door. Finally, Natasha swung the door open, allowing them inside, where James gratefully shed his heavy coat and wet boots, depositing them next to the door unceremoniously. James sneezed loudly, unable to cover his mouth before the sneeze whipped through him unexpectedly.

“Ah, damn.” Natasha sighed, “I was hoping you wouldn’t catch cold.” James sniffed, before replying,

“Yeah, me too… I guess I’m just not used to winter being this cold all the time.” She smiled apologetically, handing James a wooden hanger for his coat, and depositing it in the closet to dry.

“Let’s get you warmed up. Did you bring your own toiletries, or do you need to borrow some of Clint’s? I’m sure he won’t mind, if you need it.” James smiled, taken aback.

“Oh, uh… I brought mine from home.” He rubbed at his metal arm unconsciously, “A shower sounds great.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” Natasha asked, perking up one eyebrow. Her cheeks had grown rosy as her face finally adjusted to the relatively warm temperature of the building in comparison to their previous environment. James had to try hard to remember the last time he’d showered with a woman, or another person, for that matter. 

“Y-yeah, sure… I mean, If you want.” James tried to sound nonchalant, but he knew how nervous the words sounded as they flooded out of his mouth. Natasha smiled, leading James back toward Clint’s bathroom, sitting between his bedroom and kitchen.

“I’ll start the shower, you go grab your things.” Natasha spanked James playfully as he started to walk away from her. He looked back over his shoulder, a dazed smile plastered on his face as he watched her saunter into the bathroom.

Not bothering to waste any more time, James rushed into the bedroom, opening his bag and sifting through it until he finally fished out the small black zippered pouch that held his travel essentials: shower gel, shampoo, his toothbrush, deodorant, shave gel and a neatly-packed razor. James carried the pouch with him, swinging the door to the bathroom open, revealing Natasha winking at him as she stepped into the shower. James watched, his mouth hanging open as Natasha stood just inside the shower door, steam curling around her pale skin. 

“Are you going to join me?” James stumbled momentarily before trying to strip off his clothing as fast as he could, his fingertips still slightly numb from the cold outside.

“Uh- y-yeah-“ He stuttered, “Ye-Yes. Of course, I want to join you.” Finally, he stepped in behind her, surprised at the roomy size of the shower Clint had in his otherwise very mundane apartment. Natasha practically purred with delight when she looked James up and down as the hot water slowly made its way down her shoulders and back.

***

When Clint woke up, Bruce was standing over him, one hand on his shoulder as he examined Clint’s vital signs with concern. Clint noticed they were moving, assuming he’d likely lost consciousness after the explosion and been brought to the quinjet to get patched up. Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Clint blinked slowly in confusion when Bruce’s voice made no sound. Clint realized then, in horror, that he couldn’t hear anything- none of the usual ambient sounds of flight around him, let alone the young doctor’s voice. He shook his head, opening his mouth to respond to his friend, and then shutting it again when he knew he wouldn’t even be able to hear his own voice. Tears filled Clint’s eyes in frustration as Bruce sighed, pulling a tiny notepad and pen out of his pocket and scrabbling a message in small, curly handwriting for Clint to read.

 

BOMB WAS RIGGED TO A SENSOR ON THE DOOR. UNIDENTIFIED CORPSE WAS FOUND IN BLAST. YOU ARE NOW 100% DEAF. 

 

I’M SORRY, CLINT…

 

***

Natasha sighed with content as James massaged shampoo into her scalp; he felt warm and pleased when she leaned into his touch, the soft bubbles collecting in the crooks of his fingers as he worked his fingertips through her silken tresses with care. He pulled her close to him as he finished, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and embracing her from behind as she giggled at the unexpected movement. She playfully pushed him away, slipping into the flow of water again as James repeated the action on himself, cleaning his own hair unceremoniously and quickly as Natasha threatened to turn off the water on him multiple times.

“Do you want hot chocolate?” Natasha asked, when they’d finally stepped out of the shower, wrinkled and warm. James handed her one of the soft, fluffy towels from off of the counter, biting his lip lightly as he thought about it.

“Sure, why not? It’s been years.” She smiled, drying her body as she watched James, feeling glad that he’d finally seemed to relax again after their time spent outside. James smiled to himself, watching Natasha from the corner of his eye as she leaned to collect the clothes she was wearing earlier, carrying them out of the bathroom with her and depositing them into the hamper in Clint’s bedroom. Natasha looked over her shoulder to James, who was just finishing drying himself. She smiled at him deviously as he walked back into the bedroom, towel wrapped low under his hip bones. 

“Come here.” Natasha beckoned him, inviting James to lie on the bed; his lips curled when she sat on his lap, still naked and straddling him, with a wicked look in her crystalline eyes.

“Didn’t get enough of me earlier?” James asked, teasingly as he ghosted his hands over her thighs. “I mean, I’m not complaining or anything.” She leaned down, allowing her breasts to brush against his chest as she kissed his jawline.

“Never enough.” Natasha whispered her answer against the shell of his ear before nibbling at it lightly. “Is this alright, dorogaya?” The nickname sounded so natural in her perfect accent, James shivered slightly. She took his silence for disinterest until he grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her hungrily. They kissed as if they were competing, taking turns to see who could make the other give in first; it was only a matter of time before they were scrabbling at each other, trying to make contact with as much skin as possible. James ran his hands up her back, pulling her against him as he rolled his hips, eliciting an electrifying gasp from Natasha. He traced a path down her neck with his teeth, soothing each spot with his tongue before burying his face in the crook of her neck. Natasha continued to grind her hips against him, making sure she lined up just right to send a little spasm through his hips whenever she moved the right way… Natasha loved being able to make him react that way, and she’d never really thought they’d be given the chance to be intimate together on their own. It felt a little odd without Clint being there, Natasha admitted, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, and she knew Clint would have no objections beyond the disappointment that he couldn’t be there to witness it. 

Natasha moved down, positioning herself between James’s legs, as he’d done earlier with Clint, and running her fingertips up and down the length of his cock. She leaned down, swirling her tongue over the tip and gripping him loosely, causing him to moan out loud involuntarily.

“Mmmm-“ Natasha continued to tease him playfully, each small movement rewarded by an unintentional reaction from James. “I like a man who’s vocal in bed.” James smirked down at her, reveling in the sight of Natasha playing with his cock.

“Heh, then I guess we both know why you like Barton so much.” He started to laugh, but the sound quickly changed to a strangled gasp when she finally pulled him all the way into her mouth, sliding him back out just as quickly. “F-fuck-“ He had to work hard to keep himself from thrusting is hips into her mouth, but the things she was doing felt better than he could have imagined, as she continued her movements, slowly and repetitively. He tried to close his eyes, concentrating on the sensation of her tongue sliding over him teasingly while she continued; he knew he wouldn’t last much longer if he allowed her to continue, so he tapped her on the shoulder in a panic. “H-hold on, wait, Natasha-“ She pulled off of him slowly, her wicked smile back on her face, and her red hair tousled over her cheek with disregard. 

“What’s wrong, James?” Natasha teased, tightening her grip around him just slightly; he couldn’t control himself anymore, his hips thrusting up into her hand. “Was there something you wanted to say?” He groaned when she stopped touching him altogether.

“What’s that?” He pouted, just slightly when he looked up at her, now sitting as still as he could. “Tell me what I can do for you, James.” He gulped thickly, his voice sounding strained as he lifted his head off the bed to look down at her.

“F-fuck me?” He asked, hesitant until she made him gasp, taking him into her mouth one last time before she finally pulled away from him momentarily, “Ah-“ Before he could complain, Natasha was straddling him again, lining herself up with him carefully before easing herself down onto his cock until he was finally fully seated inside her.

When she started moving, James couldn’t think straight; Natasha ground herself against him as she moved up and down on his cock, making small circles with her hips.

James couldn’t help but meet her half-way between each movement, thrusting his hips upward with force. Natasha was moaning loudly now, her eyes shut tightly as she continued to work herself up and down on him while his hands grabbed for purchase on her smooth, silky thighs.

“Oh, God, James-“ Her breath was throaty and tight as she finally began to still on top of him, her walls tightening around him as she rode out her orgasm; her legs shook as James increased the pace, finally allowing himself to cum as Natasha’s pulsing muscles still surrounded him. He came with a gasp, panting in time with Natasha as they finally slowed to a stop, Natasha flopping unceremoniously onto the bed next to him.

“Wow…” James said, breathing heavily. “That was… something.” He sounded slightly dazed as he lay next to her, content settling over him. She laughed along with him, sitting up slowly and smiling broadly as she watched the younger man slowly ease himself into a standing position, being careful not to leave a mess behind him as he made his way back toward Clint’s bathroom to clean himself off. Natasha sighed, joining James in the bathroom to take care of her own, similar needs, she gratefully accepted the towel he’d handed her. They stood in amicable quiet for a moment, before James cleared his throat quietly. He seemed almost embarrassed as he asked the question, but Natasha’s heart skipped a beat nonetheless at the adorable tone in his voice.

“I know it’s a little soon to start planning,” He mumbled,“But do you have any idea when we can expect the next overnight visit?” His voice was hopeful, andNatasha didn’t want to disappoint him, but with this new Barney business, she feared the wait could be far longer than he would want to hear, and she didn’t want to ruin his good mood in the warmth of the moment.

“I don’t know,” She answered truthfully, “But I hope it’s very soon… “

 

***

Natasha started, immediately awake when her mobile phone started ringing at around 4 in the morning. She grabbed the phone off her bedside table and silenced it, glancing over to see James’s brow furrowed, but still snoozing gently in the dark. Natasha frowned, not recognizing the number displayed on the screen immediately; if not for a suspicious feeling in her gut, Natasha normally wouldn’t answer but she thought there was something slightly familiar about the sequence of numbers that she probably shouldn’t ignore. Hesitantly, she slipped out from under the sheets and comforter, careful not to wake the sleeping brunette next to her.

“Hello?” She asked, catching the call just seconds before it went to voicemail.

“Natasha?” A somewhat familiar voice asked through the earpiece on her phone.

“Speaking. Who are you, and why are you calling this number; an unlisted number, mind you, at 4 o’clock in the morning?” Her voice was icy as she spoke, too tired for pleasantries.

“Shit, I’m sorry Natasha… In all the chaos, I didn’t realize it had grown so late.” The voice apologized. “It’s Bruce, Banner, by the way.” Natasha’s brain finally clicked, remembering the olive-skinned doctor from the year before as he continued, “I got your number from Tony, I hope you don’t mind.” Natasha rolled her eyes, ‘Leave it to Stark,’ she thought sarcastically.

“Bruce, if you’re calling me at 4 o’clock in the morning for-“

“I’m calling about Clint, Natasha.” Bruce’s voice was starting to shake a little as he spoke quicker now. “He tripped a door sensor, and it triggered some kind of suitcase grenade when he breached an office door. He turned quick, trying to warn his the rest of the squad when it went off; he took the impact from behind, and the force of the blow ruptured his hearing aids inside his ears, along with a couple other abrasions, burns and a few broken ribs.”

Natasha absorbed the young doctor’s words quietly and calmly as he explained Clint’s condition to her. 

“Natasha, Clint’s going to be completely deaf, and we don’t know for how long. It could be a week, a month, a year… Maybe never. We just don’t know right now. And he’s…” Bruce trailed off for a moment, trying to think of a gentle way to phrase Clint’s current state of mind. But, Natasha was never one to mince words.

“He isn’t taking it well, and has become a completely silent, sulky withdrawn mess?”

“Honestly?” Bruce sounded slightly surprised, and more than a little relieved “Yes… Natasha, he’s the only one to have seen anything in that office before the explosive detonated. There was someone strapped to a chair in the room when it went off, and we don’t have any idea who-“ Bruce was full-on panicking now, “We need to know who, or what, he saw, but he’s completely emotionally shut down.” Natasha sighed, shaking her head sadly. Clint had dealt with hearing loss problems on and off throughout his adult life, but he didn’t mind hiding it from people when he could. As a favor, Tony had built Clint some top-of-the-line hearing aids, but the damage to his ears left him completely unable to wear them for who knows how long. Natasha knew exactly how devastated Clint must be feeling, but she also recognized the urgency in Bruce’s voice, and knew his concerns were not unwarranted.

“Where are you right now?” Natasha asked, inhaling slowly then exhaling quickly through her nose.

“We’re in a Quinjet, about an hour away from HQ in New York.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you in Medical in an hour.” Natasha replied, thinking for a moment before quickly adding, “And I’ll need you to make arrangements for a civilian visitor’s pass as well.”

“Fury mentioned you were entertaining an out-of-state guest for the weekend.” Bruce answered quietly, “So it’s been taken care of already.”

“Fury mention anything else I should know about?” Natasha asked, short and sharp.

“No Ma’am.” Bruce replied. “I’ll leave you to it, then. See you in about an hour.” Just before she ended the call, Bruce added, “Oh, and thank you.” 

“I’m not doing this for you.” She ended the call abruptly, suddenly extremely worried about how she would break the news to James. The last thing she wanted was to spook him into running away in the city, but if there was anything James wanted, it was to be treated like an adult. She sighed heavily, tapping the internet browser on her phone to look at American Sign Language charts, in hopes of refreshing her memory while she thought about her options.

***

 


	3. I Began to Understand Why God Died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Natasha rush to SHIELD to try to help find out what Clint knows. Will they be able to draw the truth out of him, or will Clint remain too depressed with his condition to speak?
> 
> ***  
> There isn't a whole lot left to go, maybe another two, three chapters at the most? Hope you're all enjoying it :) your comments and kudos mean the world

James paced up and down the hall, his stomach twisting in knots as he listened to the phone connect, waiting for Steve to pick up. Part of him felt bad, interrupting Steve’s weekend vacation with Sam, not to mention having to call him at 5 AM, but he knew how Steve would react if he were to find out somehow that James hadn’t called to let him know where they were headed. The phone rang another two times before he finally heard the click of Steve answering, and his friend’s groggy voice.  
“Mm- hello?”  
“Hey, Steve…” Bucky began, Steve immediately waking more as he recognized the other man’s voice.  
“Buck? Hey- What’s wrong?” The panic in Steve’s voice made Bucky’s stomach tighten even further, his palms beginning to sweat as he tried to think about what he was going to say.  
“Steve, Clint got called into work earlier tonight… An order he couldn’t refuse,” Bucky said slowly, calmly, hoping Steve would let him finish what he had to say before reacting, but he had no such luck.  
“Fuck-” Steve cursed loudly, and Bucky heard Sam stirring in the background.  
“Just listen to me, Steve. Clint received some pretty horrible news today, and while he was in the field, a grenade went off.” Bucky had to swallow to keep his voice from cracking, “He’s being taken care of in the SHIELD medical wing right now, but he’s refusing to talk to anyone. His boss has requested that Natasha come in,“ He could almost hear Steve’s blood pressure beginning to rise. "And I want to go with, to help him if I can."  
“Are you joking right now?” Steve asked, even though he knew Bucky would never lie about such a thing. “After all the times I very, very vocally expressed how bad of an idea I think it is for you, an ex-military veteran, with severe PTSD in recovery, to dive right back into the deep end of a government-funded military organization's national headquarters?!” Steve forgot to keep his voice down, and Bucky had no doubts that Sam was now completely awake in bed next to him.  
“It’s not like I’m enlisting or anything, Christ,” Bucky snapped back at Steve, “Clint’s in a lot of pain, and he’s literally shut everyone out right now! I can’t just sit and wait in his apartment while he's in agony if there’s even a chance of me being there actually helping him!” Bucky shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair as he realized he, too, had forgotten to keep his voice down, and he happened to be in the central hall of the apartment building. "Look, I wasn't calling for your permission, Steve. I just wanted you to know because I knew you'd be even more upset if I didn't tell you." Steve sighed resignedly on the other end of the line, but didn't press the issue any further, trying to respect Bucky's decision.  
"Alright, fine. Look, just... take it easy, okay Buck?" There was concern in Steve's voice as he continued, "Clint needs you right now, so you need to make sure you're in control, alright? If you feel like you're not doing well, or you're losing your grip, get out of there as quick as you can, you got it?"  
"Yeah, I got it." Bucky responded, "Natasha will be keeping an eye on me, just in case." Steve sighed, shaking his head,  
"I'm sorry this happened, Buck... I hope Clint's alright." A year ago, Bucky would never have believed the words would come out of Steve's mouth, but he sounded sincere. Steve hung up shortly after, leaving Bucky alone in the hall as he turned and walked back to Clint's door. He opened it slowly, seeing Natasha in the kitchen pouring travel mugs of coffee for the two of them before they left for SHIELD headquarters.  
“Everything go alright with Steve?” Natasha asked.  
“No… but did we really expect it to?” James answered quickly, and Natasha sighed.  
“I’m sorry, dorogoy.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, picking up a mug from the counter and handing it to him. “I called us a ride. They should be here momentarily.” James gratefully drank his coffee as they walked, Natasha making sure to lock Clint’s door as they made their way down the stairs and out onto the frozen street. Looking up, James noticed that the sky was beginning to lighten with the first rays of dawn. Natasha took his hand in hers, (this time, she’d lent him a pair of Clint’s thick winter gloves) and they walked in silence, sipping their coffees until they reached a black sedan parked on the street corner.  
“Our ride’s here.” Natasha shrugged, nodding her head in the car’s direction as a tall, thin-faced man stepped out to open the rear door for them.  
“Natasha.” The man greeted her quickly, nodding at her.  
“Coulson.” Natasha returned his gesture just as quickly before sliding into the back seat of the car gracefully.  
“And this is?” Coulson asked, as James followed her awkwardly. “Are you going to introduce us?” Natasha looked back at him, her eyes glaring in warning as James began to rub at his neck nervously.  
“My name is James Barnes.” He didn’t really know what else to say. "I've known Clint since we were kids..."  
“It’s nice to meet you, James. My name is Phil Coulson, and I work for SHIELD with Natasha and Clint.”  
“I gathered that much.” James shrugged, before asking what was really on his mind, “Does Clint know we’re coming?” Phil was quiet, his jaw tensing slightly when James asked the question. Natasha watched him through the rear-view mirror, disliking the way his face had twitched before he answered.  
“Clint hasn’t exactly been… cooperating with us. At this point, as soon as he found out he’d gone completely deaf, he’s pretty much shut out the rest of the world. Even if we had told him you were coming, he wouldn’t have paid us any attention at all.” James swallowed, trying to remember to breathe as he heard the disappointment in the tired-looking older man’s voice.  
James could almost feel his shirt collar tighten around his neck, constricting him and putting him on edge as Coulson finally stopped the car in front of a large, glass plated building on a sprawling campus that overlooked shallow reflecting pools. If he weren’t so anxious, James might have actually been impressed by the massive Headquarters, refracting the orange glow of the sun, slowly rising into the sky above them.  
“I’ll leave you two here,” Coulson said, shutting the passenger door he’d opened for them after James climbed out to join Natasha on the pavement. “I’m headed out on assignment, so I’ll be gone for a while.” Coulson leaned over to give Natasha a quick one-armed embrace, which Natasha returned hastily; the act of intimacy surprised James, but he merely nodded back when Coulson nodded in his direction.  
“James.” Coulson said as he nodded, but James didn’t particularly know how to react, so he merely remained silent. Natasha placed a gentle hand in the small of James’s back, quietly guiding him toward the building’s entrance.  
“James, I hope you won’t take offense,” Natasha said, just loud enough for him to hear as they approached the door, “But I need you to keep the displays of affection to a minimum, just for the time being.” She kept her voice even, but on the inside, Natasha’s stomach was knotted in anticipation of how James would respond to the request. “You saw Simone’s reaction last night? Well, let’s just say that people aren’t exactly very ‘open-minded’ around here, and Clint has worked very hard to gain the respect of his peers.” James sighed. He knew some kind of talk along these lines had to happen at some point, but it certainly didn’t feel good. In fact, it really felt about the equivalent of saying “here’s two functioning halves of a relationship, and then here’s you”, but he tried to swallow his pride; he knew Clint’s needs superseded his own in this moment, and they could talk about it later, if it really ended up bothering him.  
“I know, Natasha. I’ll try to keep things discrete.” James said, trying to keep his facial expression flat and emotionless as he pulled the plate glass door open smoothly.  
Natasha could hear a little of the unconcealed hurt in his voice, but she appreciated his seriousness in his response; it pained her to have to conceal their relationship, but it felt necessary, to avoid having to explain things or deal with the rumors that would undoubtedly follow them for no one knew how long.  
“Thank you, dorogoy.” She responded quickly, her voice dropping to an almost inaudible level. “I’m sorry.” James’s chest swelled, but he pushed it down, bottling his emotions as best he could as Natasha steered him by the elbow through the crowded lobby, even at such an early hour.  
“Is it always this busy?” James asked, observing the throngs of suit-clad agents making their way in groups through the massive, vault-ceilinged lobby. Natasha shrugged,  
“Most days. As you’ve personally witnessed, SHIELD doesn’t exactly believe in the concept of a ‘day off’.”  
“I guess not.” James said, his eyes wandering as she continued to lead him, crossing through twisting hallways that continued to branch off of one another. After they’d walked another hundred feet, Natasha finally stopped them in front of a pair of double doors, with a small red cross painted across both sides.  
***  
Opening the door slowly, Natasha ushered James into the medical wing; as he entered, James took in the semi-familiar starched white clinical atmosphere that always seemed so artificially manufactured, right down to the cheerful nurses who walked past them.  
“Natasha, over here.” A man’s voice called from a branch of the main hallway, passing several numbered rooms before Natasha finally greeted the speaker.  
“Hello, Bruce. It’s good to see you.” Natasha briefly embraced the young, timid-looking man before asking, “How is he? Any change since we last spoke?” Bruce bit his lip before shaking his head with dismay.  
“No change. We were planning on getting him to see the psych team, just to try to get him stabilized again, but to do that, we’ve at least got to figure out what we’re dealing with here.” James was shocked; it wasn’t like Clint to just fall apart (okay, James admitted, it kind of was exactly like Clint to fall apart…), but he’d never seen the archer grow so reclusive before.  
Bruce led Natasha and James to Clint’s door, standing just outside before opening it, allowing light to flood into the dark room through the silhouette of the doorway. When James looked in, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust enough to see Clint, lying on the bed facing toward the wall, blanket pulled up to his nose, so as to avoid any contact with the outside world. James almost made to knock on the doorframe next to him, and then felt partially humiliated that the thought had even crossed his mind. Natasha winced when she caught sight of what remained of Clint’s destroyed, twisted hearing aids sitting on the small table next to him. Hesitantly, Natasha, James and Bruce made their way slowly into the dark room, Bruce finally daring to flip on the light switch on the wall, illuminating the small room with fluorescent light, but Clint still refused to react. It was only once Natasha sat on the edge of his bed, her gentle hand resting carefully on his shoulder that Clint finally reacted; he knew her touch without looking, and Natasha could have sworn she heard him breathe her name, just above a whisper.  
“Natasha.” He sounded tired, and broken in a way James could only remember hearing on that fateful night so many years ago. Slowly, ever so slowly, Clint moved to roll onto his other side. Natasha couldn’t help but look at the angry burns that marked the skin on the back of Clint’s neck and arms, and the bandages that currently covered both ears. When he finally settled enough to see her, Natasha placed her hand on his cheek, signing the letter ‘C’, their shorthand for his name when they’d signed to each other in years past. James hated that he couldn’t understand it when Clint responded to her in turn, his hands fumbling to form the right signs, but Natasha looked just as rusty as she signed back to him in reply.  
“He’s obviously very frustrated that he can’t hear anything anymore.” Natasha translated, explaining Clint’s slow, clumsy signs for the rest of the room. “But he’s also annoyed that no one even bothered to try to speak with him using ASL.” Bruce looked at the ground, ashamed that they hadn’t done so before.  
“Tell him I’m so sorry.” Bruce said, his tone genuine. Natasha complied, which then led Bruce to grow even more serious as he finally asked her the question he’d been dying to ask before. “Apologize for my insensitivity, Natasha, but I need you to ask him what he saw, just before the bomb went off. We need to know whether or not Barney is still…” Bruce trailed off, knowing the question could easily push Clint away from them again, this time for who knew how long, but he still needed to know, for the sake of their ongoing mission.  
It took Clint and Natasha a moment or two before they got the rhythm down; Clint’s eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to relay the answer to Bruce’s questions to her, continuously signing for minutes on end. Natasha tried, just as creatively to interpret what Clint was saying; James heart felt like it would drop at any moment as Natasha voiced Clint’s thoughts.  
“Clint says he breached the door, and as soon as he tripped the door, he knew it. But, his reaction was slowed; he was caught off-guard by something in the middle of the office-“ Natasha stopped a moment when Clint read her lips and stopped to accent something he’d been saying. “Oh, I’m sorry Clint, he said there was someone… a person in the office.” Clint’s face was stock still and unmoving when Bruce prompted him further.  
“We heard a weak heartbeat in the office just before the munition detonated.” Bruce was speaking quickly now, fast enough that Clint was struggling to read his lips. “Clint, do you know who it was? It’s very important that you tell me everything you can remember.”  
Natasha signed slowly, trying to think of the best way to phrase the doctor’s concerns, until Clint’s jaw went square and he nodded; he knew well who the man in the chair was, someone he’d never thought he’d had to face again.  
“Clint says he knew who the man was, strapped to the chair, but it doesn’t make any sense as to why…” Natasha said slowly, her eyes focused hard on Clint’s, who looked to be in serious pain, both emotionally and physically with the exertion. James’s heart was in his throat as he watched the exchange, feeling more and more useless with each passing moment. “Clint says this person was a man from his past. One of his old foster parents from when he lived out in the country.” Natasha said, “Someone who agreed to take in Clint and his brother for the government stipend checks but didn’t actually do anything to care for them.” Bruce seemed slightly relieved, despite the fact that this man was still very much dead after the explosion in the office. “Clint says this man used to beat him and his brother regularly when he was young. Often for trivial things they didn't have anything to do with.” Clint refused to look Natasha in the eye when he told her that, immediately feeling as if he’d somehow been transported back in time to when he was a child, trying to explain away the black eyes and bruises he’d had to his teachers at school… James felt powerless; he wanted so badly to scoop Clint into his arms and kiss him softly, to tell him that everything would be alright, despite how bleak things seemed to be in the moment, but he’d promised Natasha he wouldn’t draw unnecessary attention to his beloved sniper.  
“Clint apologizes he can’t tell you more. Barney was not present on-site, and he has no idea what this murder is supposed to mean. He’s sure Barney’s trying to tell him some kind of message, but he has no idea what.” Clint signed just once more after that, the words, "I’m sorry.” As he refused to acknowledge any more questions from Bruce. The thin-faced doctor nodded, patting Clint on the shoulder as he signed the one bit of ASL he’d learned growing up.  
“Thank you, Clint.” Bruce emulated Natasha’s short name for him, hoping he’d gotten the sign correct. Clint nodded, but still refused to make eye contact with Bruce, who was getting ready to report Clint’s intelligence to his superiors, so that they could figure out what to do now that their lead had gone cold.  
“Natasha?” Bruce asked, drawing her attention away from Clint momentarily, “Can I have a word with you in the hall?” Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning to kiss Clint on the cheek just once before she stood to accompany the doctor as he’d asked. James stood next to Clint’s bed, unsure of whether or not it would be appropriate for him to sit on Clint’s bed, or touch his hand; he feared doing anything that might alter Clint’s coworkers’ perceptions of him, but it almost physically hurt James to just stand there and do nothing. Clint was sitting up in the bed now, his head in his hands as James finally stepped close enough to Clint’s bedside that he could settle his hand on Clint’s shoulder, gently. Clint looked up, his eyes widening in surprise when he realized James was standing in front of him. James held up his hand, producing a moleskin journal from his jacket pocket, along with a pen he’d brought in the event that he’d needed to do some venting, but he was grateful for it now, so he could communicate with Clint nonverbally.  
‘Hey’  
‘James’  
‘I know, Clint. I’m merely here as your concerned, platonic childhood friend. I’ll be as inconspicuous as possible.”  
Clint’s face seemed to contort slightly with mixed emotions. He felt gratitude that James would be so willing to consider Clint’s insecurities, but he also hated that those feelings ruled the way he acted about someone he loved so dearly, simply because his peers would see him differently because of it.  
‘I’m sorry, James. If it’s worth anything…’ Clint bit his lip before gently patting James’s hand that still wrested on his shoulder, one of the few places that wasn’t covered with blistered, burned flesh. ‘I love you.’ Clint’s handwriting was tiny, the letters scrawling wider than they were tall, but James savored the small statement nonetheless.  
‘I love you, too, Clint. So much.’ James’s handwriting was neater, looping around the l’s, the y’s and the o’s as he scrawled his reply. ‘When we get home, I want you and Natasha to teach me ASL, so we can video chat when I go home.’ Clint nodded, before adding,  
‘I was kind of hoping you could stay… at least a little longer now that I’m going to be permanently out of action, for a while at least.’ He chewed his lip for a moment before adding, ‘Although Steve probably hates me again…’ Bucky’s face grew just a little guilty. ‘Bucky, I’m so sorry for making you come here.’  
‘Don’t be.’ James wrote back hastily, ‘I came of my own free will. I’m not going to freak out, don’t worry.’ Clint almost smiled, and James felt infinitely better, glad that he’d decided to come along after all. James was astounded of how much he was reminded of their first experiences passing notes in juvenile detention, trying not to get into more trouble and failing miserably when they inevitably made each other laugh. The thought filled James with both nostalgia and hope, until Clint’s phone started to buzz unexpectedly on the table beside them. James’s attention snapped to it, and Clint’s eyes went wide when he followed James's gaze and realized what was happening. Immediately, both men looked up to see Natasha and Bruce still standing just outside the door, talking, and clearly not texting Clint, which meant someone else had decided to send Clint’s restricted number a message at this early hour of the morning… The thought sent chills down James’s spine.  
***  
Bruce and Natasha spoke together outside Clint’s closed door, Natasha standing so he could still see her in the small glass window that was cut out of the door. Natasha’s heart raced when she saw James move to approach Clint, praying Bruce wouldn’t notice if he slipped up and displayed his affection for Clint in an obvious way, but true to his word, James behaved himself.  
“Natasha?” Bruce asked, brows furrowing as she finally snapped back to attention, shaking her head as she apologized to him.  
“Sorry, Bruce. What did you need to speak to me for?”  
“Well, I’ve got enough to report to Fury for us to start to regroup, but with Clint in this condition…” He trailed off, struggling for the right way to broach the subject with the redhead. “Natasha, Nick is not going to clear Clint for duty any time soon, after all this… And with Barney and Sewell still at large, we’re going to need a plan, and fast, or the consequences will be serious.”  
"And you want me to come in and clean up the mess." Natasha completed, “Bruce,“ Natasha protested, “I already told Nick that I wasn’t going to give up my leave time when I’ve got a guest specifically visiting from another state to see me!” She gestured toward James, but Bruce shook his head, his voice low and worried.  
“Natasha… This is a matter of National Security, and you’re the only other agent at SHIELD with any prior experience with Barney Barton! Clint’s not in the right state of mind to help serve his country right now, but we know your skill set, and we know you can help us.” Bruce continued to try to convince her, pleadingly, “I know what Nick’s requests are going to be, and he’s going to ask for you. I know it. You're the only one who's going to be able to capture Barton, alive and willing to give us some fucking answers before everything goes to hell."  
“Bruce-“  
“Just consider it, Natasha. You owe us that much.” Natasha bit her lip, not even bothering to argue the point anymore.  
“So what happens now? Clint gave you what he knows, but it really didn’t get you any further than where you started.” Natasha asked, daring Bruce to shrink away after all the big talk he'd just thrown at her.  
“I don’t know, Natasha.” Bruce admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “He'll probably be released later today to do some serious time healing from home for the next few weeks while SHIELD sorts out the rest of this business with Barney and Sewell. Clint will probably have to undergo psychological therapy for a couple weeks, minimum, at least until the panic episodes subside; and then we'll just have to hope and pray his hearing returns with enough time." Natasha's eyebrows furrowed at the answer."Natasha, I care about what happens to Clint, too, but I have to admit… the guy I saw today? That was not the same guy who I met under fire a year ago. This shit with Barney? It’s really shaken him to the core.”  
“Wouldn’t you be shaken, if your last remaining family member died the year before, and then just miraculously showed up out of the blue again, alive and well?” Natasha was prepared to defend Clint tooth and nail; after all, he’d done so for her so many times already… she still owed him her life many times over, she had no doubts.  
“It’s a valid point, but Natasha, we’re going to have to keep him out of the loop from this point onward, or I’m honestly afraid of what that's going to do to him-“ James came bursting out of Clint’s room, his eyes wide in panic; Natasha’s stomach dropped as she and Bruce followed at a sprint back into Clint’s room to see what had caused the look of fear in James’s eyes.  
***  
Clint was sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on his cell phone, cradled in both hands on his lap as it continued to buzz with each notification that a message had been received.  
::Restricted, 6:27AM:: Did you get my present?  
::Restricted, 6:27AM:: I was hoping you would enjoy it.  
::Clint, 6:28AM:: Who is this  
::Restricted, 6:28AM:: Let’s not play games, Clint.  
::Restricted, 6:28AM:: You know who i am.  
“He’s exchanging text messages from an unregistered number.” Bruce’s eyebrows raised, and he immediately grabbed for the radio clipped to his belt, hoping Tony and Nick still had theirs on them and would hear the broadcast.  
“Guys, we’ve got a bit of situation developing here.” Bruce said, trying to remain calm despite his growing fears. With Clint in such a volatile state, was it a good idea for him to be text messaging back and forth with his brother who was linked with a potential global terrorist?  
::Clint, 6:30AM:: How?  
::Clint, 6:30AM:: I watched you die.  
::Clint, 6:31AM:: I felt it.  
::Restricted, 6:31AM:: I want to tell you.  
::Restricted, 6:32AM:: I will tell you. But not now.  
::Clint, 6:32AM:: When, then? And why not?  
It was another few minutes of silence before Barney finally answered Clint cryptically, not really giving him any solid information.  
::Restricted, 6:35AM:: I’ll be in touch.  
Clint could have broken his phone, he was so angry with Barney’s vague, not-really-answers to his questions. Tony came bursting through the door, rushing to Clint’s side where he could read the messages Barney had sent.  
“Is this everything?” Tony asked, speaking slowly and clearly so Clint could read his lips. Clint nodded, his expression falling with dismay as he allowed Tony to take the phone from his hands. “I’m sorry, Clint, I’m going to need to analyze this as soon as possible.  
“Go ahead.” Clint signed, despite the miserable look on his face. Tony gathered what he’d meant fairly quickly and took off like a rocket for a lab where he could download and analyze the metadata from the phone. James wanted so badly to be able to comfort Clint somehow; the archer looked downright awful in the bright glow of the fluorescent lights, with the burns now totally visible down the backs of his neck and arms, deep circles gathered under his eyes, and the thick bandages that covered his ears and wrapped around his head.  
“I need to inform the Director of the developing situation.” Bruce motioned with his thumb behind him before he turned on his heel and walked quickly from the room, his hand already bringing the radio to his mouth once more. Clint, Natasha and James were the only ones in the room, yet none of them really knew what to do; they still held some inherent fear of prying eyes around them, despite Natasha’s urge to pull them all together around Clint, to try to help him cope with the torrent of horrible feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.  
***


	4. But I'm Lying, I'm So Very Far From Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint, Natasha and Bucky deal with the fallout of Barney's text messages. And, what lies ahead for Clint in terms of recovery and rehabilitation?

Clint sighed, speaking audibly for the first time.  
“What the fuck is this supposed to mean?!” His voice came out cracked, and louder than he’d intended, but he didn’t know or care. James and Natasha exchanged a look, each rushing to sit on opposite sides of Clint’s bed, trying to do whatever they could to support him. They sat in silence, their hands on Clint’s for a long moment before someone knocked on the door; Natasha and James’s faces turned, Clint’s following a moment later. James didn’t recognize the man who stood outside the door, evidently waiting for some kind of permission to enter the space, but Natasha clearly bristled at the man’s appearance. She quickly stood, walking as brusquely to the door as she could, and opened it slowly.  
“Please come in, Director Fury.” The aging, dark-skinned man thanked her quietly before entering the room, closing the door behind him slowly; James couldn’t help but think he probably shouldn’t have been sitting on Clint’s bed when his boss walked into the room, but he was afraid of doing anything at the moment to draw attention to himself. Instead, he tried to keep his eyes trained on his hands, sitting in his own lap. When James finally dared to look up, he was surprised by the kindness on the man’s face, despite the thick black eyepatch that covered one of his eyes, scars curling under the patch intimidatingly.  
“Thank you for allowing me to speak with you, Natasha.” Fury’s voice was slow, measured. “And you must be James-“ He extended his hand to shake; James hesitated, worried about how his arm would strike the Director, but he finally forced himself to return the gesture, shaking hands as quickly as he could. “Pleased to meet you. I am Nicholas Fury, SHIELD Director.”  
“Nice to meet you too, Director Fury.”  
“Please, James, call me Nick.” The look of kindness continued, softening his features in a way that seemed to make Natasha uncomfortable. James didn’t like it.   
“With all due respect, sir,” Natasha interjected, stepping closer to the older man, “If this is about Barney text messaging Clint-“ Fury held up his hand to quiet her.  
“Natasha, I’ve got Banner and Stark working on that as we speak, and I’m confident that if there’s any information to be gleaned, they’re the two to do it.” He shook his head, “No, I’m here to speak with the three of you about Clint, and what we’re going to do to try to get him rehabilitated without overwhelming him.” Clint’s face darkened some when he read Fury’s lips, but he had to admit he’d been wondering exactly what the future held for him in terms of his current condition.  
“Ah-“ James started, his eyes beginning to go wide when he tried to play his role of “platonic friend” too obviously. “I-I can leave the three of you alone, if you want-“ Fury shook his head once more.  
“Please, James. You deserve to have this conversation, too.” He tapped his nose with a fingertip, and winked; Natasha shivered at how uncharacteristically nice Fury was acting, but, considering he seemed to be admitting he’d familiarized himself with the details of his agents’ personal lives, she figured it was safe to assume he had also checked up on James’s background and quickly found out about his rather unpleasant past. “I am aware of the relationship you’re currently pursuing with two of my more important agents…” His voice grew deeper, a definite edge beginning to develop. “There are few secrets that can be kept from prying eyes in this business… It would be good for the three of you to remember that.” He breathed evenly, his tone switching back to its previous saccharine pleasantness. “That being said, it’s going to be important Clint has a strong support system in the coming weeks, as we really won’t be sure of the long-term effects of your injuries until the tissue in your ears begins to heal.” Clint seemed to be struggling to read Fury’s lips, so Natasha started to translate, as quickly as she could. He nodded, getting the general meaning from Natasha as she paraphrased. “You will be attending therapy sessions twice a week,” Clint’s face went sour, but Fury merely stared back at him almost challengingly. “Until such a time as you are deemed ready for field work again. This is mandatory to your rehabilitation, and will not be negotiable.”  
Clint opened his mouth to retort, and Natasha and James exchanged a quick glance of concern at each other. Nick turned to them individually before asking,  
“I’m sorry to ask, as I’d just gone on about how much you deserve to be here for this discussion, but may Clint and I have a moment in private?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, her pulse quickening when she hesitated at the thought of leaving Clint alone.  
“He might not understand what you’re saying.” She answered; Fury sighed, replying.  
“Then I’ll speak slowly and enunciate.” Natasha shrugged, beckoning James out into the hall with her and asking if he wanted to go to the cafeteria for some breakfast. Nick sat down in the chair that sat next to Clint’s bed, his face straight as he looked back at the younger man who looked very broken in the bed next to him.  
“Clint, I know you might not feel like you need to talk to anyone about this…” He made sure to speak slowly, making eye contact with the sniper as he spoke. “Or that you might not like me calling you out like that in front of your significant-“ He hesitated before finishing, “-Others… But, Clint, everyone has noticed it- you’re not acting like yourself! I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. For your own sake, I need you to talk to someone, or you won’t be cleared for field work.” Clint looked down at his lap, defeat written clearly on his face.  
“Kind of a moot point, talking about clearing me for field work, when I don’t have my hearing anymore.” His voice was bitter, and just a hair too loud, but Fury was actually impressed to hear Clint speak out loud, as he hadn’t done so until James and Natasha had arrived earlier in the morning.  
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Who knows, Stark might be able to cook you up something in that lab of his.” Fury smiled, “Or, the damage could repair itself on its own… The human body is a miraculous thing.”  
Clint’s eyes settled in his lap, suddenly more interested in his scratchy hospital blanket than what his commanding officer had to say, but Nick waited, his arms crossed over his chest until Clint finally dared to look back up at him.  
“Just think about it, Clint. You’re going to be here for at least one more day. It couldn’t hurt to go talk to someone.”  
***  
James set his tray of food down on the table carefully, his coffee sloshing over the side of the styrofoam cup when he let go. He cursed under his breath as Natasha sat down across the table from him; she handed him a pile of napkins from her own tray, which she’d set down gracefully without spilling a drop.  
“Thanks.” James said gratefully, cleaning up the spilled drink as quickly as he could before settling into his seat. He honestly wasn’t hungry in the least… in fact, the idea of eating anything, really, made his stomach feel rather upset. Knowing Natasha was watching him with quiet concern, James picked up his plastic fork and poked at the cold fruit salad sitting in front of him (the only thing that had looked remotely palatable), but couldn’t commit to actually taking a bite.  
“Nothing sounding good?” Natasha asked, spearing a small piece of breakfast sausage with her fork and bringing it quickly to her mouth. James sighed, shaking his head in answer, earning a frown from Natasha.  
“Promise me you’ll at least try to eat something?” She offered him a bite of the sausage from her plate, but he held his hand up in refusal.  
“I’ll stick with my fruit.” He tried to chase a grape through the bowl, finally sticking it with the tines of his fork before putting it into his mouth. He tried to chew it, feeling the texture of the fruit more than he tasted any of it… he forced himself to swallow the pulpy lump, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. James grimaced, but Natasha looked thankful, so he continued to repeat the process, one piece of fruit at a time.   
Natasha and James sat in silence for a while, eating their breakfasts (though James mostly just pushed his around) and drinking their coffee, before they were interrupted by Bruce, who approached them and asked to speak with the two in private. Natasha looked around the cafeteria, which was fairly busy with its mid-morning rush of agents bustling to get their breakfasts before starting their days.   
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I could have a minute of your time.” His voice sounded just as frayed as it had earlier, and Natasha noticed he’d developed a bit of a sweat with the stressful situation that had been building around them.  
“Sure, Bruce.” Natasha answered seriously, picking up her tray to dispose of her garbage; James followed suit, discarding the half-full fruit cup into the trash bin and hurrying to catch up with Bruce and Natasha who were already in the hall. “Tony wanted me to bring the two of you to his lab, where, well,” Bruce sighed, opening the door to their left and holding it for them as they entered the lab. “He can explain the rest.”  
“Hey, Natasha, how’s it hangin’?” Tony asked, perking up an eyebrow when James followed just behind her. “Who’s this guy?”  
“My name’s James.” James said, but offered nothing more. He kept his hands jammed in his pockets, suddenly growing tired of being introduced to people.  
“Tony,” He pointed to himself, before adding, “Nice to meet you.” James nodded back at him in acknowledgement. “Okay, Nat, I know you aren’t going to like this, but-“ It was Natasha’s turn to quirk an eyebrow as Tony picked up a small device the size of a compact mirror off of the table behind them. “I’m gonna need you to keep this panic button on you for at least a couple of days-“ Natasha opened her mouth to interrupt, but Bruce cut her off.  
“Natasha, I’m sorry, but this is non-negotiable. Fury’s orders.”  
“Why?!” Natasha finally shouted back indignantly. “This is bullshit, I’m the best goddamned spy SHIELD’s got! You’ve got to be joking!”  
“That’s why this is so important, Widow.” Tony’s voice had taken on a tone of command. “If anything happened to you, we’d have to send in agents who aren’t familiar with Barton, or the scope of the problem we’re potentially dealing with here. We traced the text messages Barney sent to Clint’s phone, and the number is registered to a burner purchased here in the city. Now, he could be routing through some kind of proxy, but we can’t afford to take any chances here.” Tony kept eye contact with Natasha, who was staring back at him challengingly. “If he’s in the city, he’ll try to make contact with Clint again. We just have to wait it out and see.”   
“Really, Stark, we’ll be fine.” Natasha sighed as Tony attempted to pass the device to her. “I don’t need this, seriously. I can handle Barney Barton.”  
“Director’s order, Nat. I’m sorry.” Tony put the small button in her hand, waiting for her fingers to close around it before letting go. He started giving directions, ignoring the massive eye roll Natasha was giving him. “Operation’s pretty simple; you push it, and when you feel the haptic feedback click, you’ll know you’ve sent the distress signal. Nick’s ordered agents for round the clock surveillance for the foreseeable future until Barney reaches out again somehow and we can nail down where the hell he’s hiding.” Natasha’s face looked absolutely furious as she stuffed the slim button into her sweatshirt, planning to dump it in her coat pocket and then never look at it again when she got back to Clint’s apartment. James’s mouth was twisted shut; he had only seen Barney Barton once, when he and Clint had just begun to get to know each other, and Clint invited him back to he and Barney’s apartment. They were still just kids at the time, and James only barely remembered the interaction.  
Barney had been missing for a few days, which was fairly normal, and Clint wouldn’t admit it, but James knew he had been lonely. James was feeling suffocated at home, after his parents found out about his juvy sentence and he leapt at the opportunity to get out of the house; Clint was searching through the clearly-empty refrigerator for something they could eat for dinner when Barney came stumbling through the door, clearly half-drunk and reeking of sweat. He had a crumpled bag of fast food, a wad of dollar bills, and three quarters of a twelve-pack of beer stuffed under one arm, which he unceremoniously dropped on the kitchen table with a thud before grunting at Clint in greeting and ambling to his room, beer in hand, to black out. Clint had immediately grown embarrassed, trying to think of some excuse to convince James he should go home before Barney got any worse, but James refused, somehow convincing Clint that his apartment (with or without Barney) was still a damn sight better than the way his family was strangling him with their desire to control his every move, Clint had accepted the explanation with a nod, thankful for the friend who persistently refused to abandon him in his time of need.  
James was jolted back to attention when Natasha snorted with laughter at a small parcel Tony had handed her, just catching the end of what the short, raven-haired man was saying,  
“-Anyway, I thought this might cheer him up.”  
“Thanks, Stark.” Natasha said, her quiet laugh coloring the edges of her words. “He’ll really appreciate that.” James wondered what the small box contained, but shrugged, sure he’d find out soon enough.

***  
James and Natasha made their way back to Clint’s room at their own pace, Fury having evidently left shortly after they had. Clint looked sullen, sitting in his bed and staring at the ceiling when they opened his door slowly. Clint noticed the change in air pressure in the room, glancing in their direction as James shut the door behind him. Natasha approached Clint’s bed, beckoning Clint to sit up as she handed him the small gift box Stark had given her for him and inviting him to open it. Clint couldn’t help the smile that cracked just slightly on his face; James finally saw the tiny, detailed target set that Tony had put together for Clint to play with, complete with miniature slingshot and magnetic projectiles. Natasha immediately set to work putting the targets up in various places around Clint’s room; throughout the day, Clint, Natasha and James alternated trying to hit the targets using the unpredictable magnetic projectiles, taking turns collecting the tiny, differently colored and differently weighted pellets and changing the locations of the targets, making each round more challenging than the last. By nightfall, Clint’s spirits had improved immensely, as he’d gotten to the point where he could perform trick maneuvers with the tiny ballistics, shooting two and three at a time to double or triple his bullseye score.   
Natasha kissed him on the cheek while James squeezed his shoulder gently, both thankful to see their archer’s normal easy-going demeanor beginning to return with confidence. A few nurses had stopped in to check on Clint throughout the day, remarking happily that he was showing signs of improvement. As the sun finally fell beneath the horizon, painting the world in its dark, orange and blue palette, Natasha and James bid Clint their goodbyes, promising to bring him home literally the second he was to be discharged the next day. Clint was in good spirits, eating his dinner from a plastic tray and making faces at the poor quality of the cafeteria food.  
“I hope you two get to have something better than this for dinner.” He said quietly, signing at the same time. Natasha laughed, shrugging her shoulders as she replied just as Clint had.  
“Without you at home to cook for us? It probably will be worse!” He chuckled, “We’ll have to go out to eat tonight… No home cooked meals for us until you get home again.” Natasha smiled, patting his hand affectionately.  
James and Natasha rode back through the city quietly, a silent SHIELD agent drove them, weaving through back streets and hesitantly stopping when Natasha asked him to park nearby and allow them to eat dinner before continuing their route back to Clint’s apartment. After a quick glance from Natasha, the agent folded, parking next to the restaurant she’d indicated and shrinking into his seat to watch from afar as she and James ate a much more relaxed and enjoyable dinner than James would have expected that morning. He sighed, happiness beginning to swell in his chest again as he imagined how wonderful it would feel to bring Clint home again the next morning.

***  
Natasha walked into the bedroom, sighing as she took off her coat and went to hang it in Clint’s closet; she stopped, stock still, when she saw movement in her peripheral vision. In the same fraction of a second, James walked into the room behind her, leaning to kiss her on the cheek when the sound of a gun being cocked across the room caught him off-guard.  
“Hey Red-“ Natasha turned, finding Barney Barton seated in the plain chair Clint kept in the corner of the room, a 9mm pistol in his hand pointed at her. “Long time, no see.” His voice was gravelly and cold; it made the hair on her neck stand up.  
“N-Natasha, please step behind me.” James’s voice was shaking, but he’d be damned if he was going to let anything happen to her; Barney had already caused enough chaos in Clint’s life, he wasn’t about to let him do anything more. Barney’s cold smile fell, a look of disgust replacing it as he turned the gun on James instead. Natasha’s heart raced rapidly in her chest as her mind reeled for something, anything she could use to disarm him, to catch him off-guard, but she was coming up empty-handed. “Where’s Clint?” Barney looked cold, calculating.  
“He’s in medical at SHIELD headquarters, thanks to you.” James’s voice was just as frigid when he answered and Natasha wished so badly that she could stop him speaking out; in the distraction of James and Barney’s standoff, Natasha slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket, sending the distress signal to the two on-duty agents doing surveillance on the street.  
Barney’s mouth twitched when James responded, James daring to cross slowly in front of Natasha.  
“So, what? Clint’s in the hospital and you two thought you could shack up in my little brother’s apartment behind his back?” Barney’s tone was frigid and accusatory, the gun shaking in his hand with anger.  
“It’s not what you think-“ Natasha started, trying to keep the man from doing something rash… But she knew she was too late when he raised the gun over his head and fired into the ceiling, sending plaster dust raining down over them like confetti.  
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Natasha! We both know you better than that.” He brought the still-smoking barrel to point back at James once more.  
“It’s true, Barney.” James started, trying to jog the older man’s memory if he could. “You probably don’t remember me, but we met in the past. Back when Clint and I were kids, I was at your apartment back when-“  
“So now now you’re fucking Clint’s woman in his apartment?” Barney laughed derisively, and Natasha’s insides burned. “Sounds pretty shitty to me, man.” Barney pulled the trigger once; in a fraction of a second Natasha pulled James from the left, the bullet boring itself deep into the interior workings of James’s metal arm, bending the edge of the plates where flesh and metal meet with force. James grunted, his body crumpling inward with the impact and Natasha screamed, scrambling to knock the gun from Barney’s hands, as the SHIELD agents breached Clint’s front door. James sunk to his knees, his body still curled into itself as Natasha pinned Barney to the ground with her knee pressed against the back of his neck, and his own gun pressed against his temple.  
“Just give me a reason.” Natasha’s voice was icy; one male and one female agent ran into Clint’s bedroom, Natasha immediately nodded toward James, shock and pain evident on his face. “Please help my friend, he’s been shot!” The female agent set to work, rushing to James’s side with an emergency kit in one hand; she gasped when the mangled metal of his arm caught her off-guard.  
“I’m so sorry,” She breathed as she continued to examine the broken, bleeding skin that had been pinched between the damaged metal plates, pushing a gauze pad against his shoulder and he sucked in air quickly. “I didn’t realize it was a prosthetic.” James’s face contorted with the pressure, while Natasha and the male agent cuffed Barney with heavy, interlocking shackles, Natasha dragging him to his feet by the scruff of his neck before the male agent radioed in a quick report. Barney started to struggle until Natasha reached into one of Clint’s dresser drawers, producing an extra “Widow’s Bite” and tasering him into the carpet.  
***  
Hours later, James sat on Clint’s bed, his ruined arm held in a medical sling as he and Clint scribbled notes back and forth to each other frantically.  
‘I can’t believe he fucking shot you.’  
‘Yeah, I can’t say I was exactly thrilled.’ James tried to force a smile at Clint, but couldn’t quite make it happen.  
‘I’m going to fucking kill him.’ James looked back at Clint, trying hard not to shrink back from the aura of seething rage that rolled off of his love; James realized he must have reacted without realizing it, because Clint sighed, signing,   
“I’m sorry” as he said it out loud, so quiet James almost didn’t hear it. James looked back at Clint as he blinked back tears he couldn’t stop from springing to his eyes. Clint immediately grabbed James’s hand, squeezing it tightly.  
Natasha opened the door quickly, causing the two men to spring apart as fast as they could; both James and Clint grimaced at the rapid movement as Natasha approached them, a look of warning on her face as she closed the door behind her, one hand just placing her phone into her pocket.  
“So… how was that phone call?” James asked, looking both apologetic and hopeful as she pulled up a chair to Clint’s bedside.  
“About as well as could be expected…” Natasha sighed, before continuing. “Which is to say, not well at all.” James’s face fell, his body language drooping slightly with the news. “He and Sam are on their way over.” Natasha added apologetically and James’s eyes bulged. Clint looked back at her, signing, as he raised an eyebrow at her.  
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”  
“Not in the least bit.” Natasha answered, signing as she spoke. “But he wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer.” James ran his hand through his hair, the old habit resurfacing as he tried to remain calm, despite his heart starting to hammer in his chest.  
“Hey-“ Natasha noticed the way James’s eyes had started to shift around, putting her hand on James’s knee to try to ground him. “It’s going to be alright, dorogaya. I promise.” He looked back at her reluctantly, but he had to admit, it was somewhat comforting having her fingertips stroking his knee lightly. “Just take a deep breath, James.”  
‘Whatever happens, we’ll get through it.’ Clint wrote into the notebook, holding it up for James to read and tapping the page for emphasis. Clint turned the page and began writing again, feeling he needed a new page for the next line. ‘I love you, James Barnes.’ Clint underlined the words with a quick stroke for emphasis, before adding, ‘Always have.’ Clint handed the notebook to James with a sincere look on his face. The brunette’s eyes filled with tears involuntarily as he smiled back at Clint, his hand covering Natasha’s on his knee as she continued to lightly soothe him.


	5. And When the Sun Goes Down, Will You Meet Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Sam arrive at SHIELD, concerned for Bucky's health. And finally, Clint and Barney get a chance to speak (as long as they aren't fistfighting instead)...

Steve was livid, adrenaline, anger and fear bringing his blood to a boil as he and Sam rode in the back of the black sedan Natasha had sent to bring them to SHIELD headquarters to visit James.

“Relax. Breathe.” Sam put his hand on Steve’s, tracing gentle circles across the back of Steve’s hand with his thumb. “James was in an unexpected, unprovoked, dangerous situation, but he’s okay now.”

“Okay? He got fucking shot in Clint’s fucking apartment!” Steve pulled his hand away from Sam, gesticulating wildly in the small cab of the sedan. Sam looked slightly hurt, withdrawing from Steve and staring out the window.

“Look, Steve, I realize this is all coming from a place of love and concern for Bucky,” Sam said calmly, evenly, his eyes still fixed on the city passing them by. “But your immediate reaction can’t just be rage all the time. It will just drive Bucky further away, and it won’t do anyone any good.” Finally, Sam dared to look at Steve, who had a sour expression on his face, his jaw set tightly. “Just… Try not to yell too much. We really can’t have a repeat of you and Clint’s last major shouting match. It took James two days to recover.”

“Yeah, well now he’s going to need weeks.” Steve retorted, his voice pointed and bitter. “Can you imagine how he must be feeling right now? He hasn’t been around a gun in over half a decade, and then gets shot, out of the blue, in Clint’s apartment of all places?”

Steve sounded distraught as he continued, saying,

“How is he supposed to feel safe there, now?” Sam marveled at the concern in his partner’s voice, his stomach knotting with guilt over his previous, harsh words. Steve offered his hand to Sam, as a gesture of peace; Sam held Steve’s hand gently, sighing before he replied,

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugged, “But that doesn’t give us the authority to decide whether or not he gets the chance.” They rode the rest of the trip in silence, Steve trying to consider Sam’s words as he watched the city whir past them through the tinted windows.

***

The man who drove Steve and Sam to SHIELD headquarters escorted them through the congested lobby, leading them to stand in front of the same double doors Natasha and Bucky had stood in front of the previous morning, Steve’s heart pounding in his chest and his palms sweating. He filled his chest with air, pushing it back out again before Steve finally pushed the door open, holding it so Sam could walk through before him and standing in the hall, searching for the right room. Steve’s eyes scanned frantically, eventually landing on Natasha, leaning against the wall outside one of the doors, her arms crossed over her chest as she nodded in their direction. Sam and Steve walked over to her, Natasha meeting them halfway and ushering them to the side, just long enough to exchange a few quick words.

“Alright, now that you’re here, we need to establish some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?!” Steve burst out, and Natasha shot him a dirty look, trying her best to keep him quiet. “You’re damned straight we need to establish some goddamned ground rules!” Steve shot back, a little quieter this time.

“You’d better keep your voice down, Steve, if you actually want to talk to James without being escorted off the premises before you get that chance.” Natasha’s threat was quiet, but no less menacing.

“Point made.” Steve replied coldly. “Now how about some honesty.” 

Steve and Natasha spoke quickly in hushed voices for the next few minutes, Steve rapid-firing questions at her, and Natasha answering to the best of her ability.

“I want to know exactly what happened tonight.” Steve said, Natasha taking a moment to collect her thoughts before she responded to him.

“What has James told you so far?” She asked, for clarification.

“Only that Clint learned something unsettling and was forced to work despite the fact that James had been there to visit him, and then was injured.” Natasha sighed, taking a deep breath before attempting to bring Steve and Sam up to speed.

“So, the ‘unsettling’ information Clint was told, was that his brother is still alive. And involved in something dangerous to our national security. That’s about as much as I know about the assignment.” Sam’s eyebrows shot upward and Steve’s brows furrowed as they processed the new information.

“I thought he was dead-“

“So did Clint.” Natasha said, urgency in her voice. “As far as he knew, Barney bled out at Clint’s feet more than a year ago.” Steve was silent, realizing now why Clint had been so stunned, so defensive when Steve had brought him up in the past. He felt ashamed of himself, but was unable to keep himself from asking for more.

“So the shooting at Clint’s apartment-“ He said, thinking out loud. Natasha’s face grew very serious as she answered him.

“Barney sent Clint a series of text messages from a disposable phone bought in the city. At first, we thought he was just routing the call through a proxy satellite, but…” Her eyes fell, the first display of regret and anger that she’d allowed herself to show. “Barney must have thought Clint was staying at home, after the search for him turned up cold. When we got back to Clint’s apartment, he was waiting for us.” Her voice grew quieter, sharper as she finished. “He thought I was cheating on Clint… Barney pulled a gun, and I tried to talk him down… but I underestimated him, and he shot James.” She gritted her teeth. “The damage doesn’t seem permanent, but… It’s something I’ll never forgive myself for.”

Steve’s stomach roiled, and his mind reeled at the thoughts that swirled through his head.

“And is he-“ Steve struggled to finish the question, “It hasn’t triggered any flashbacks, or panic attacks?” Natasha nodded knowingly,

“That was my first worry, as well.” She invited Steve and Sam to step closer to the door, where they could see James inside, talking calmly to Clint and a stranger who faced away from them, his face just inches from James’s shoulder making mechanical adjustments to the damaged sections of James’s arm. Steve whistled low through his teeth when he saw the broken, angry red flesh that had been cut by the crumpled metal plates on the edge of James’s arm. “But, in reality, he’s actually handling it quite well. But I think Clint’s been doing his best to keep up morale.” They watched from the hallway for a few moments longer, before James looked up, finally noticing Steve standing in the doorway with Sam at his side. By the look on Steve’s face, James wasn’t sure if he should be smiling or frowning. As Natasha swung the door open, Tony simultaneously apologized, frowning at James as he said,

“Alright, grit your teeth, kiddo-“ He gripped the individual plates that had taken the most damage from the bullet impact, slipping his fingers between the deep grooves and beginning to pull. “‘Cause this is gonna hurt!” Tony said quickly, wrenching the panel away; James grunted in pain, the sudden loss of the crushed panel feeling odd and wrong in a deeply programmed way James couldn’t completely explain.

“Ah-“ James gasped, his flesh hand grappling at the metal limb as if it were being completely removed, gripping his forearm tightly with phantom pain.

“Easy there, buddy-“ Stark said, sitting back slightly as he set down the warped piece of metal that had comprised most of James’s shoulder. “We’ve got to replace the ruined panels, and get this thing re-calibrated, then you should be good as new.”

Tony used a 3D scan of the panels from James’s shoulder to create new, un-damaged versions of the small metal plates, which he replaced quickly, shaping them and tweaking them again and again until they were almost indistinguishable from the originals. James was grateful for the scientist’s help, as he’d personally have had no idea where to even begin to repair the damage, but he couldn’t help but hate every second of the time he was forced to spend beingpoked and prodded at without the use of his arm. Clint and Steve hovered at his side, clucking like mother hens whenever James made a face, or shifted uncomfortably in place; James couldn’t stop himself from gripping the limb tightly for the duration of the repair work, phantom pain still needling at him relentlessly.

“And just like that, we’re done!” Tony said triumphantly, pushing the last plate into place and locking it against the others. He tuned the internal electronics carefully, using a tiny-screwdriver and a fine mineral-oil lubricant. “I’ve got to admit, this tech’s pretty incredible… The person who designed it seems almost as smart as me.” Stark grinned, earning a warning look from Clint.

“Uh… Thanks, Stark.” Natasha said, not particularly wanting to praise those who’d done such horrible things to James, but still grateful for the work Stark had done.

“Yeah. Thanks.” James’s patience was wearing entirely too thin for anyone’s comfort; he didn’t appear to be the only one to notice, either, when Clint and Steve started trying to change the subject.

“Now that that’s taken care of, do you think we could all have a conversation- in private?” Steve asked, shooting a sharp glance toward Tony, who had no trouble taking the hint.

“If you don’t mind?” Sam added thoughtfully, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Look, as much as I’d love to know who all of you people are, and why you’re here, just for the sake of all the juicy gossip-“ He retorted, “But, SHIELD is actually trying to deal with a pretty legitimate crisis right now. So if you guys feel the need to talk, you’re gonna have to take it somewhere else.” Steve looked ready to retort, but Clint and Natasha nodded, ushering the rest of the group into an empty hallway that branched off from the main hospital wing.

“Natasha!” Tony popped his head out the door behind them; Natasha broke away from the group, allowing Clint and James to lead Sam and Steve away. “I know you’ve got guests, and even your guests have guests and all, but Fury’s requesting Barton’s presence at Holding. He says it might get bad and he wants you to be there to observe, just in case.”

“And what about James, Sam and Steve?” She asked icily, the adrenaline flowing back at the memories of her last encounter with Barney, as well as Clint’s. “We can’t just leave them here, nor can you kick them out on the street.”

“We can so just leave them here!” Tony replied, gesturing behind him, “They can go back to Clint’s room and wait, for all I care. Natasha, did Fury brief you on what’s going on here?! This is a matter of national security!” Stark had grown unusually serious, his voice growing loud. Clint cleared his throat from behind them, Sam, Steve and James still walking back to the room Clint and, subsequently, James, had been staying in. From their body language alone, Clint could gather they were having a disagreement immediately.

“What’s going on?” Clint asked calmly, looking at Natasha for help. Natasha hesitated momentarily before sighing and telling him the truth.

“Fury requested you to come to Holding.” Natasha said slowly, allowing Clint to read her lips; he stiffened visibly, his face dropping to an emotionless mask. She neglected to tell him that she would be observing the interaction, disliking having to conceal the truth, but understanding of the reasons why. Clint and Barney’s interactions needed to be authentic, not calculated.

“Do I get a choice?” Clint asked, sarcastically. Tony shook his head and Natasha bit her lip. She knew what this interaction could do to Clint; the weeks after Barney’s death had been hell. Clint had refused to shower or even get out of bed for days at a time. He’d only recently sustained his first bout of hearing loss, and was still sulking in the remnants of depression, to the point of completely ignoring Barney and Natasha’s presence when they tried to speak to him. Barney was stabbed on the roof of Clint’s apartment building the night after he and Clint’s final shouting match, an unexpected response to some of Clint’s personal problems they had been trying to take care of. Frustrated, and knowing Clint was actively pushing her away, Natasha had been out of town for the week on a side operation of her own to give him the space he’d wanted; she cut it short and called for extraction when she heard the news. By the time she’d arrived back in the city, Clint’s apartment was a mess. He hadn’t bothered to clean anything or bathe himself in days. She knew the look of desperation in his eyes when she swung the door open and his head snapped toward the hall in his peripheral, half-expecting his older brother to come walking in, but instead being greeted by the partner he’d been more-or-less avoiding, with a suitcase in her hand. It took her another three days before Clint finally said anything to her.

***

_Late, in the middle of the night, almost four days after Natasha had moved back into Clint’s apartment to keep an eye on him, Clint finally shuffled out of his room, blinking slowly, and seeing Natasha sitting on his couch watching television._

_“Tasha-” His voice was raw from disuse, and his eyes were undeniably red-rimmed and swollen. She turned to look at him, not quite surprised._

_“Hey, Ptista.” He visibly flinched at the nickname, and Natasha wished she could reach out for him, but she didn’t want to push him away. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the deep purple circles under his eyes, his greasy, unkempt hair and enough scruff on his face to know he hadn’t given a single thought to taking care of himself._

_“Wh-What are you doing here?” His tone was almost accusatory, but his voice broke halfway through. His entire posture seemed sunken with the heavy weight of his grief coupled with the intense depression he’d already been suffering; Natasha’s stomach dropped out slightly when he stepped a little closer to her, the light of the TV illuminating the hollowness of his cheeks that were normally full and slightly dimpled. It appeared he hadn’t been eating, either._

_“I-“ It took her a moment to find her voice. “One of my contacts reached out. They said Kate needed to pass along a message. When I finally got to a telephone, she told me-” Clint refused to make eye contact with her, staring at the ground instead when he couldn’t stop himself from tearing up, he sniffed and wiped his nose with his thumb. “Clint, I’m so sorry.”_

_“Just leave me alone, Natasha.” He immediately turned on his heel and walked back into his bedroom, closing the door behind him._

_Natasha did as she was asked, quietly cleaning Clint’s apartment for him over the course of the next day, only approaching him to knock on the door, and leaving a tray of fruit and coffee to try to tempt him to eat something. Hesitantly, Clint eventually began to accept her help; with small steps at a time, Clint opened his door and looked at the breakfast waiting on the ground in front of him. He didn’t want to think about the last time he’d eaten, as it made him nauseous. Natasha didn’t bear to turn her head, but she smiled when she heard him pick up the tray, carrying it back into the bedroom with him; she was surprised when she didn’t hear the click of the door being closed behind him._

_“Tasha…” He spoke, his voice still hoarse and raw as he stood in the open doorway. “Thank you.”_

_“I’m here for you, Clint.” It was all she dared to say to him… but it was a start._

***

Clint stood outside the interrogation chamber, his blood turning icy in his veins as he tried to prepare himself for what waited behind the heavy, steel door. He couldn’t stop the scene still playing in the back of his head, his clothes clinging to him, so warm and sticky with the copper-scent that hung heavy in the air, as the voice of the EMT told him,

“I’m sorry, Mister Barton… His heart rate is too weak… There’s nothing we can do. He’s bleeding too quickly.” Clint balled his fists so tight his fingernails cut little half-circles in the creases in his palms, the pain grounding him against the flashback, bringing him back into the moment. He filled his lungs with air, refusing to exhale until he’d finally forced himself to scan his ID, granting him access and sliding the massive metal door open. Clint felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, like an airplane cabin destabilizing when a door opens in mid-air; Barney sat, chained to the table, in the middle of the room, his head tilted down and looking at his hands in his lap. Clint stepped into the room, the door sliding shut behind him as he crossed in a few quick strides. By the time Barney looked up from his lap, Clint was next to him, his fist connecting with Barney’s face with all the force he could muster. He knew he’d likely get chewed out for it later, but at the moment, Clint didn’t give a damn about the potential consequences.

“Fuck you!” Barney cursed, but Clint couldn’t hear him. He swung once more, Barney having just enough room to pull out of the way so Clint’s fist connected with his jaw instead of breaking his nose. Barney started to laugh, gruff and cruel, refusing to break eye contact with his younger brother now. At first, Clint had worried he wouldn’t be able to read his brother’s lips, but the bright lights of the interrogation room cast Barney’s features in sharp relief; Clint caught almost his every word. “I wondered when they’d send someone in here. Thought there was about a 50/50 chance they’d send Romanoff back to work me over, or you to try to appeal to my emotional side.” His voice was mocking, but it didn’t particularly matter to Clint. “I gotta admit, little brother, I wasn’t expecting you to be the one throwing the punches. Not that I should be surprised… Fistfights aren’t exactly anything new.”

“So? Get on with it.” Clint said, his voice cold as he sat down across the table from his brother; his hands were shaking with rage and his knuckles were beginning to bruise. “You got something to say?”

“Well, for starter’s your girlfriend’s a whore, and she’s cheating on you with your friend. But don’t worry, I shot that motherfucker for you, so you’re welcome.” Barney nodded at him proudly, and Clint rolled his eyes, tilting his head to both sides, cracking the joints in his neck, trying to keep himself in check.

“Shut your fucking mouth about them. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He walked up and kissed her in your bedroom, Clint, how naive can you-“

“Shut the fuck up!” Clint slammed his hands on the table in front of them, his voice so loud, Barney knew Clint had no sense of it.

“What’s wrong, Clint?” Barney taunted. “You’re still so far in denial, you don’t want to face the facts?”

“You mean like the fact that up until the day before yesterday, I still thought I was the only living member of my family?” Clint diverted, finally forcing Barney to follow through on his promise to tell him the truth. Barney looked back at him, his expression blank as Clint continued, hurling questions at the other man. “Was Kazimierczak even involved? Were you ever even in any real danger?” Clint’s voice grew frayed, and he slammed his fists against the table again in anger. “Say something!”

***

Natasha stepped into the room quickly, sweeping her arms behind her head when the monitor on the desk in front of her showed Clint standing outside Holding, stiff as he spoke to one of the agents who’d been in charge of securing Barney in the interrogation chamber.

“Sir, you know what this is going to do to him.” Natasha’s statement was short, and to the point. She wasn’t about to let this happen without at least attempting to intervene.

“I’m aware of the risks, Natasha.” Fury said, his answers calm and measured. “But Barton deserves the answers to his questions, straight from the horse’s mouth. Even if it isn’t something we can use, or a pleasant experience. If we need more information, we can send you in afterward.” He looked back at Natasha good-naturedly, but she had a hard time accepting the gesture. “Clint and I have already discussed it, and he’s agreed to go back to the same therapist he was seeing when he was grieving the original loss.” Natasha nodded, thankful that Clint hadn’t fought the recommendation too actively, as she’d had a difficult time convincing him to attend in the past.

“That doesn’t make his emotions expendable, Nick.” Natasha replied, “You didn’t see him that first week after it happened… If I hadn’t come back, I don’t know what he might have done.”

Nick nodded knowingly, before glancing back at the screen and then pointing for Natasha to see. Clint was now standing in front of the door, stock-still with his fists balled up tightly. It took him almost a full minute before he finally pulled his ID from his pocket and swiped it through the card reader near the door.

“Here we go.” Nick said, watching with interest. Natasha snorted when Clint immediately punched Barney, knocking him back in his seat with the force. Nick whistled, when Clint struck his brother once more, this time square on the jaw when Barney jerked back as far as the chains on his wrists would allow.

“He gets a couple of those.” Natasha said, “Since I didn’t get the chance.” Fury looked back at Natasha with slight amusement, until Barney’s dry, derisive laughter started to cut in and out through the speakers sitting under the monitor.

 _“I wondered when they’d send someone in here. Thought there was about a 50/50 chance they’d send Romanoff back to work me over, or you to try to appeal to my emotional side.”_ Natasha laughed humorlessly.

“If it were me, he’d be bleeding more.” She said, half-way under her breath.

“ _So, get on with it… You got something to say?”_ Clint’s voice sounded harsh when he spoke, and Natasha heard him pull out the chair to sit down.

“ _Well, for starters, your girlfriend’s a whore, and she’s cheating on you with your friend.”_ Natasha shut her eyes quickly, trying not to let Barney’s words get a rise out of her. “ _But don’t worry, ‘cause I shot that motherfucker for you, so you’re welcome.”_

“ _Shut your fucking mouth about them. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”_ Clint seemed to be on the edge of losing control. Natasha could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

“ _He walked up and kissed her in your bedroom, Clint, how naive can you-“_

 _“Shut the fuck up!”_ The roar of Clint’s voice, and his fists hitting the table spiked through the speakers a fraction of a second behind the video feed.

“ _What’s wrong, Clint? You so far in denial, you don’t want to face the facts?”_ Natasha was impressed when Clint’s answer was just as quick; he shot back,

“ _You mean like the fact that up until the day before yesterday, I still thought I was the only living member of my family?”_ He paused for a moment before finally voicing the questions that had been stewing inside him for the last 48 hours. “ _Was Kazimierczack even involved? Were you ever in any real danger?”_ His voice was breaking now, and he knew Barney noticed it. He punctuated the question with one more slam of his fist against the cheap wooden table. “ _Say something!”_

_***_

Barney’s facade finally slipped, just slightly. He looked at Clint, his younger brother, so broken and angry in front of him, and he couldn’t help but see flashes of their childhood showing through; the memories disgusted him, and he immediately pushed them away.

“You want to know the truth?” Clint already hated the tone behind his brother’s voice, bracing himself for something awful. “Yeah, Clint, the Clown still gutted me good.” Clint stared back at Barney, unblinking, challenging.

“So all the blood…” Clint started, swallowing hard as the feeling smothered his senses again. “That was real?”

“Yes, Clint.” Clint could feel the bile in his throat; he desperately repressed the urge to be sick. Barney stared Clint down, standing from his seat as far as his cuffs would allow and lifting his shirt to show the raised, dark scar that now covered the area he’d been stabbed in.

“Then, how-” Clint’s voice was broken now, no longer able to control himself. “How are you alive?” Barney sighed, finally breaking eye contact with Clint to avoid his gaze.

“It’s complicated.” He almost sounded ashamed, but covered it with his usual exaggerated demeanor.

“Complicated?!” Clint roared, “No fucking shit, ‘It’s Complicated!’”

“I was pronounced dead at the scene, but it wasn’t quite the truth.” Clint gritted his teeth, his fists balled tightly on the table in front of him. “The Clown made my heart stop somehow… Must’ve poisoned the blade or something, ‘cause his guys delivered me to Sewell as soon as they bagged me and loaded me into the ambulance.”

“But the autopsy-“ Clint said, and Barney shrugged his shoulders in response.

“When someone’s got enough money, they can make things happen.”

Clint couldn’t believe what he was hearing… None of it made any sense.

“Why you?” He scoffed, “Why the hell would Sewell choose you, out of anyone in the world?” Barney shook his head.

“I met the guy once, before all this, a couple years back in an illegal game of cards in Reno. I owed him some money… You know, old habits.” Clint groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose angrily. “Found out later, he just so happens to run in the same circles as your tracksuit wearing organization’s accquaintances, and when he caught wind of Kazimierczak’s contract, he intervened.”

“All that effort, just for someone who owed him money on a game of cards? I don’t buy it…” Clint said, sounding incredulous.

“Sewell knew of my reputation when we met; he said he had a use for someone with my particular… skill set…”

“So he wanted someone who could brawl and manipulate with the best.” 

“More or less.” Barney shrugged; he knew what he excelled at. Clint stared back at Barney, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why would you do it, Barney? Why agree to help this guy?! Do you even know what they’re saying about Sewell?” Barney sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, and Clint knew he could see the shreds of doubt and guilt Barney couldn’t quite conceal.

“I owed him money, and he saved my life. I had no choice, Clint. ” 

“There’s always a choice!” Clint screamed, raising half-way out of his seat; Barney’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared back at his younger brother, his eyelids turning to thin slits.

“Maybe there was for you, Clint, but not everyone’s so lucky!” Barney screamed back, the cuffs rattling at their limit as he pulled his wrists back quickly. “Not everyone gets the opportunity to make things right, working in the government’s pocket!” Clint slid his chair out behind him, pacing around the room like a wounded animal. He scoffed, gesturing wildly around him.

“Oh, you want to talk about “opportunity”?” He asked, sarcastically. “Let’s talk about exactly how I was offered this opportunity, when I agreed to sell my soul to SHIELD for the foreseeable future to pull both of our asses out of the fire! And then worked my way through hell to finally make something of my life! Don’t you dare try to fucking call it ‘luck’, ‘cause I’ve damned well struggled for everything I’ve earned.”

***

 


	6. Sleep Deprivation and Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens as Natasha watches Clint and Barney's interrogation; it's obvious Clint's in no condition to be working, but Barney Barton is a fickle prisoner.   
> James struggles as the day's events finally catch up to him, and Steve has a hard time sitting by to watch it happen. When he gets the chance to let Clint know, Steve doesn't censor himself.

Sam yawned loudly, covering his mouth with his hand as he followed Steve and James to the food court for some much-needed coffee. Steve watched James from his peripheral, the concern written clearly on his face as he observed James’s quick, tight movements as they walked.

“It’s just over here.” James said, his voice low and even as he nodded toward the end of the hall, where the doors opened into a massive cafeteria, filled with SHIELD agents as far as the eye could see. The three men walked through the cafeteria, quickly serving themselves coffee, Sam carrying a bagel in his mouth as they found a table to sit down at. James set down his coffee on the table, having filled it slightly less full this time to avoid spilling on his newly-repaired arm; it still wasn’t exactly an easy task. With a lack of sleep, the fatigue and damage done to James’s shoulder muscles after being shot, James felt as if he could drop at any moment. Pulling his chair out behind him, James staggered when he went to ease himself down; Sam and Steve both sprang toward him, hands outstretched to catch him if he fell.

“Woah, woah-“ Sam said, as he touched James gently on the shoulder, guiding him to rest in the chair. “You alright, James?” Bucky grunted back before replying hurriedly,

“Just tired… Need some more coffee, I’ll be fine.”

Steve still didn’t like the way his friend was favoring his opposite shoulder gingerly, settling his elbow on the table in front of him as he stared down at his cup of coffee, unwilling to meet the other two mens’ gazes.

“James.” Steve addressed him directly by his given name, and Bucky scowled at the concern in his friend’s voice. “Tell us the truth… Are you really alright?”

“Steve, like I said, I’m just exhausted.” Bucky looked grim, dark purple bags collected under his eyes, and Steve didn’t doubt it.

“Maybe you should just go get some sleep, instead, Buck.” He shook his head, and Steve watched, his jaw set tightly.

“I can’t sleep. Not until I know Clint’s okay, and that asshole’s locked away.” Sam looked back at him, incredulous.

“James, that could be hours from now,” He looked back at the sleep-deprived ex-assassin sat slumped over the cafeteria table, “You needed to go to sleep, like, six hours ago.” Bucky shook his head, but had to shut his eyes when a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him.

***

 _“You want to know the truth?”_ Natasha already disliked the way Barney was spitting the words at Clint, anger and disgust flashing across the older man’s face.

 _“Yeah, Clint, the Clown still gutted me good.”_ Natasha watched Clint stare at Barney, unmoving and challenging and her heart raced in her chest.

 _“So all the blood…”_ Clint swallowed between words, and Natasha could almost see his heart breaking all over again, the same hollow, blank look in his eyes. _“That was real?”_

 _“Yes, Clint.”_ Barney stood, raising his shirt to show the scar and Fury leaned closer to the screen, as if examining the mark pixel-by-pixel.

 _“Then, how-”_ Clint’s voice was broken and Natasha’s stomach twisted. It was happening all over again, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do to stop it. _“How are you alive?”_ She watched Barney look away from Clint, Natasha unwilling to even blink when Barney was so obviously growing uncomfortable with Clint’s interrogation.

 _“It’s complicated.”_ Barney’s familiar defense mechanism took over, and Fury tapped a fist against the table.

“You almost had him!” Fury shouted, just barely covering the beginning of Clint’s volatile reaction.

 _“Complicated?!”_ Clint’s voice cut out momentarily when he shouted, and the speakers crackled, _“No fucking shit, ‘It’s Complicated!’”_ Natasha couldn’t help feeling a little proud of his reaction.

_“I was pronounced dead at the scene, but it wasn’t quite the truth. The Clown made my heart stop somehow… Must’ve poisoned the blade or something, ‘cause his guys delivered me to Sewell as soon as they bagged me and loaded me into the ambulance.”_

“Sewell?” Natasha asked, and Fury handed her a thick folder filled with intelligence they’d managed to gather regarding the arms dealer. She flipped open the folder and scanned as much as she could, but tore her eyes away again when Clint started talking.

 _“But the autopsy-“_ Barney shrugged, and Natasha wished Clint would hit him again.

_“When someone’s got enough money, they can make things happen.”_

_“Why you?”_ Clint was incredulous, throwing the questions at his older brother. _“Why the hell would Sewell choose you, out of anyone in the world?”_ Natasha couldn’t help but wonder the same as she and Fury watched Barney shake his head.

 _“I met the guy once, before all this, a couple years back in an illegal game of cards in Reno. I owed him some money… You know, old habits.”_ Natasha rolled her eyes when Clint groaned. _“Found out later, he just so happens to run in the same circles as your tracksuit wearing organization’s acquaintances, and when he caught wind of Kazimierczak’s contract, he intervened.”_ This time, it was Fury’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“It’s a long story, but I’m sure Clint would be happy to enlighten you some time.” Natasha answered coolly, suddenly worried that Fury finding out about Kazimierczak might not be such a good thing for Clint.

_“All that effort, just for someone who owed him money on a game of cards? I don’t buy it…”_

Fury and Natasha nodded at Clint’s words, hoping Barney would keep talking.

_“Sewell knew of my reputation when we met; he said he had a use for someone with my particular… skill set…”_

_“So he wanted someone who could brawl and manipulate with the best.”_

_“More or less.”_

“They don’t exactly mince words, do they?” Fury commented.

 _“Why would you do it, Barney? Why agree to help this guy?! Do you even know what they’re saying about Sewell?”_ Natasha watched him, drawing closer to the screen when Barney’s tells surfaced again.

_“I owed him money, and he saved my life. I had no choice, Clint. ”_

_“There’s always a choice!”_ She knew Clint was losing his control quickly, and she worried for him; Natasha knew he’d need to get out of there, and soon.

 _“Maybe there was for you, Clint, but not everyone’s so lucky!”_ Their shouting match continued as Barney tore at his cuffs unsuccessfully again. _“Not everyone gets the opportunity to make things right, working in the government’s pocket!”_ Natasha knew they had had this fight so many times, and yet Barney continued to bring it up over and over again, and she knew how tired Clint was of the argument.

 _“Oh, you want to talk about “opportunity”?”_ Clint’s voice was scathing. _“Let’s talk about exactly how I was offered this opportunity, when I agreed to sell my soul to SHIELD for the foreseeable future to pull both of our asses out of the fire! And then worked my way through hell to finally make something of my life! Don’t you dare try to fucking call it ‘luck’, ‘cause I’ve damned well struggled for everything I’ve earned.”_ Clint turned on his heel, throwing one last punch into the metal plated wall next to the door as he signaled at the camera to be let out. Natasha finally remembered to breathe when Fury keyed in a command on his smart phone, making the door slide open in front of him.

“Well, at least we’ve got a few answers. That’s something to work with.” Fury said, turning away from the screen to face Natasha. “I suppose we’ll have to send you in later for the specifics.” Natasha bit her lip and nodded. What little she’d read of the file, and she already knew that she couldn’t just walk away and leave this in less capable hands. As much as Clint would be wrecked after this, and James was already in poor shape, she knew the responsibility fell on her to clean up Barney’s messy end in all of it.

“I’ll take care of it.” Natasha answered evenly, thoughts already beginning to take hold as to how she could manipulate Barney into giving her the information they needed. She already knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t cooperate with her willingly, but after knowing Clint and loving him despite his flaws, after all these years, Natasha was still pretty familiar with what made the Bartons tick, and ideas of how she could handle his stubborn pig-headedness continued to come to her.

***

Clint raced down the hallway mindlessly, with no idea where he was going, outside of the idea of “far away”, and “anywhere but here”. He kept going at a ridiculous pace, barely managing to navigate as he strode past the cafeteria, his heart hammering in his chest and Barney’s words whirling around in his head. Without warning, Clint rounded a corner and collided with Steve, who had Bucky leaning on his shoulder for support as they made their way back to he and Clint’s room. The impact made James stumble, losing his grip on Steve’s shoulder as he tripped and hit the ground hard; it took Clint a moment to register what had happened, finally snapping back to reality as he realized who he’d hit and fell to his knees at James’s side, concern on his face.

“Shit- James, I’m so sorry-“ Steve grabbed Clint by the back of his collar, ripping him away from Bucky with a look of anger on his face that Clint hadn’t seen in a long while.

“Clint, what the fuck?” Steve seethed, leaning over Bucky and grabbing his un-damaged arm to help the angry, exhausted younger man back to a seated position. It took James a moment to right himself, his every joint and muscle complaining at the motion; his head swam with the effort.

“It was an accident, Steve. I’m sorry. I wasn’t- in my right mind.”

“Clint?” James asked, his vision finally settling enough that he could see Clint’s eyebrows raised in alarm; it was easy to see Clint’s psyche fraying at the edges, just as James had feared, and he wondered where Natasha was, and what she was doing while all of this was happening. James snapped his eyes shut, chastising himself for thinking such a petty thing before Clint’s voice pulled him back into focus.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Clint cursed, pushing himself off the ground and leaning down to help James up, trying to ignore the sense of rage that was rolling off of Steve as James slung his arm over Clint’s shoulder as he’d done with Steve moments before, groaning as Clint lifted the both of them into a standing position. “C’mon, James, let’s get back to the room, then we can get some sleep.”

“Buck, are you alright?“ Steve asked, unable to suppress the quick angry glance he shot at the back of Clint’s head.

Clint was only just beginning to realize the physical and emotional toll the last 24 hours had put on not only himself, but Bucky, too. He could feel the guilt and shame boring into the pit of his stomach when James’s shuffling footsteps had a hard time keeping pace with him as they rounded another corner at a snail’s pace. Steve and Sam were just a few steps behind them, watching with furrowed brows as Clint guided James back to their room and into Clint’s bed, allowing Bucky to roll onto his side and fall asleep almost instantly while Clint sat beside him, running his fingers across James’s scalp as he slept.

***

Natasha stood outside the door of Barney’s cell, pushing her hair behind her ear as she took a few slow breaths, gathering her thoughts before she scanned her ID and the door slid open. She was immediately greeted by a familiar derisive jeer from Barney, whose cheek had started to swell, his lip cut from Clint’s last swing.

“And here comes Natasha to clean up Clint’s mess, how predictable.” Natasha stood on the opposite side of the tiny interrogation chamber, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him. “All the trouble I go to, shooting that dickhead in Clint’s apartment, and he doesn’t even try listen to me? You must have him in your front pocket, eh, Red?”

“Just like I tried to tell you, in Clint’s apartment,” She added, as an aside, “And I’m sure Clint also tried to tell you earlier, there’s more to this than you know, so you should just leave it alone, Barney.” Barney rolled his eyes at her response, leaning back in his chair as far as the cuffs on his wrists would allow as he spat his response back at her venemously.

“Yeah, and I’m sure that’s exactly what a manipulative whore like you would tell him to think.”

Natasha laughed humorlessly, crossing her arms as she stood across the room from him, her green eyes trained on the all-too-familiar features that ran in the Barton bloodline; thankfully, a lot of their tells were the same, too.

“You’ve been talking an awful lot about Clint for a guy who just up and left when your brother was feeling at his absolute lowest…” She left the statement hanging in the air, watching Barney’s every move as he reacted, growing loud and defensive, and throwing accusations back at her.

“You know what? Yeah, I left, after Clint and I got into a fight-“ He scoffed as he said it, “Clint’s a prick when he gets depressed, and I got sick of taking care of him. But you ain’t so perfect, Natasha. ‘Cause as I recall, you took a job on the other side of the country the minute Clint’s self-absorbed pity party became inconvenient for you.” The accusation hurt Natasha, because she knew he was right. Steeling her nerves, Natasha finally stepped a little closer to the table he was still sitting at as Barney stared daggers back at her.

“You want to know what the difference is?” She leaned down, her palms flat on the table top. “The second I heard you’d been killed and he was sitting in his apartment, alone and depressed? I returned to his side, without a moment’s hesitation. I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’m perfect, but at least I cared enough about Clint to come back. I didn’t hide from him like some kind of coward.” Natasha knew she’d struck a nerve when Barney lashed out at his restraints.

“It wasn’t that simple!” He yelled, his face tight. “You think I didn't want to contact him? To reach out to my little brother and tell him I was alive-“

Natasha pressed him a little harder, trying to build on the clear, volatile reactions Barney was having to talking about Clint during his time spent working for Sewell.

“Are you implying there was an explicit reason you didn’t do so? Something or someone that restricted your ability to contact anyone you knew or cared about?” Barney bristled slightly, before responding,

“My employer made it explicitly clear, I was to contact no one outside the confines of my job, or there would be… consequences.” Barney shifted uncomfortably in his chair and Natasha could feel her pulse quicken slightly.

“Violent consequences?” Natasha asked, one eyebrow raised.

“To anyone and everyone who had ever known me.” He answered, nodding without emotion. “They mentioned using relatives as test subjects a lot. It was a favored threat of Sewell’s.” Barney swallowed thickly, evidently realizing that he’d said too much when Natasha pulled out the chair across the table from him to sit down.

“Did you ever see any of the human experimentation?” Natasha asked, but Barney avoided her eyes, his mouth closed tight, refusing to answer her, so she tried a different approach. “Barney, you lived in secret, undetected, for almost a year under the threat of seeing Clint experimented on, or killed; how did you get caught on an IPCam that happens to be linked to a SHIELD satellite after so long?”

“It was a moment of carelessness.” Barney retorted, still not moving his eyes from the artificial wood grain of the table top.

“You know, I don’t think it was. I think it was an SOS signal; you’re in over your head and SHIELD has the means to make your problem go away.” Barney scoffed when she added, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

When Barney finally looked back up at her, and Natasha seemed genuinely concerned for him, “Barney, a year is a long time to put up with isolation like that. And whether you meant to involve us in this, or not, is irrelevant now. You might as well cooperate and let us help you.” The room was quiet for the first time since she’d entered, and Natasha knew she’d gotten to him when Barney’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Sewell’s contacts figured out I’d been accidentally tagged on the satellite during a transit op almost immediately. He figured when my brother found out I was really alive, he’d be on the first plane headed in our direction, so Sewell decided to find someone expendable to infect with the virus, and use them totrick Clint into leading the Op team right into the infection range. ” Barney sighed heavily when he looked back at Natasha. “I swear to God, when I wired that door, I didn’t mean to hurt him." He swallowed thickly, "You've got to believe that, Natasha... As hard as it was watching him go through that the first time..." He shuddered, just slightly. "I wired that door so Clint wouldn’t get close enough to be infected, and I escaped immediately after that.”

“How did you avoid infection?” Natasha asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

“Sewell and most of his staff are vaccinated regularly against new evolutions of the strain.”

“We’re going to need blood samples, right away. We need to see if we can reproduce a vaccine. This could save millions of lives.” Barney bit his lip and nodded grimly in concession.

***

James's eyes snapped open and he was standing in the middle of a familiar, dank basement, lit by just one bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. He could hear voices, scraps of a conversation, here and there from around him, but no matter where he looked, he couldn't find the source of the sounds. And then, without warning, he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked, and James felt chills run down his spine.

" _It is time. Bring the Soldier."_ The words sounded so fluid in his head, James barely realized he was hearing russian, and not english being spoken outside the walls around him.

"Help!" James started to scream, glancing back and forth at the walls that surrounded him, searching desperately for a door, or a window, but all he found was more of the same grey, cement bricks. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to realize, as he scrabbled at the cold concrete that he was distinctly missing the mechanical arm he'd grown so accustomed to after the years he'd spent wearing it. It felt odd and wrong as he looked at the gnarled, twisted flesh that remained where his arm once was. "Someone, help me!" He could feel himself scream, but the sounds were muffled, as if he were yelling underwater.

" _It is over, little Soldier."_ The cold, russian voice spoke at him condescendingly, " _You are weak. Your friends are all dead. No one will save you now."_

 _"_ No!" James gasped, his voice rising to a shout as he felt his whole body shake with the horror. "No, please-"

"James-" A familiar voice cut through the haze, and James grew more and more frantic. "James, wake up!"

James started, rolling onto his back to see Clint slumped over him in the bed, his face exhausted and scared.

"James, take a deep breath," He soothed, running a gentle hand over James's shoulder. "It was just a dream... You're alright, I promise." James's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to lie back into the pillow once more.

"Just stay with me, at least until I fall asleep..." James curled into Clint, and Clint sighed, squeezing James's shoulder lightly.

"I'm right here, just try and relax." 

***

When James awoke hours later, he rolled over in bed, surprised to see Sam sitting in a chair across the room, browsing the internet on a smart phone quietly as he, evidently, waited for James to wake up. Sam looked up from his phone, smiling quietly as he heard James shift in the small cot, scratchy sheets crinkling like paper when he changed position with a look of dazed confusion on his face.

“Morning.” Sam greeted gently, inclining his head toward James before he glanced casually toward the door. James’s eyebrows raised, his pupils flicking past the door just as Sam’s had as he asked,

“What time is it? Where’s Clint- and Steve?” Bucky’s heart rate picked up when Sam’s expression looked nervous, avoiding the brunette’s gaze as he tried to think of a way to explain without sending Bucky into a panic.

“It’s still early, just after 7 in the morning.” Sam answered cautiously, before adding, “Steve and Clint stepped out a few minutes ago to have a little talk.” James tensed, and Sam winced, the guilty look on his face somehow making James feel even worse.

“To have a little talk?” James repeated back, his voice still rough from sleep. “What are they talking about without me, this time?”

***

Clint and Steve walked through the snowy courtyard slowly as they spoke, the dim, orange street lights casting a strange hue over the blanket of soft powder that covered every inch of the small sanctuary they had settled on; Clint had hoped the stillness and quiet would somehow calm Steve, when he knew what he was about to ask was bound to prompt a volatile response.

“Clint, it’s freezing.”

“Yeah, sorry…” Clint sighed heavily, shifting under his winter jacket uncomfortably. “I just wanted to talk somewhere-“

“Where other people couldn’t hear us?” Steve asked, and Clint rubbed at the back of his neck, self-consciously. “Even after all this, you’re afraid of any of them finding out about him?” Clint forced himself to look back at Steve, who stared at him with his eyes slit accusatorially.

“It-It’s not that-“ Clint stammered, as if trying to convince himself just as much as Steve, “I’m trying to keep my work life and my personal life separate. I’m not ashamed of anything.” Steve rolled his eyes, scoffing at Clint’s statement.

“Are you even trying? Clint, we both know there’s more to it than that, and it isn’t fair of you to lie.”

“I didn’t-“

By now, Steve was in Clint’s face, gesturing with his hands as he shouted, and Clint worried they might not be far enough away from the doors to avoid being heard, if Steve didn’t tone it down, quickly.

“You’ve got to know what you did, what you asked Bucky to do, what kind of toll that was going to take on his already tenuous psyche? And then, to top it all off, your good-for-nothing brother shows up out of nowhere and pulls a gun on him? It’s easy to see what you wanted to ask me out here, Clint. It's Sunday morning already, I’m not an idiot.” Steve looked back at him wearily, his voice growing quieter. “How can Bucky possibly feel safe in this environment? How can you expect me to agree to leave him where I know he can’t feel safe?” Sighing, Clint stepped back a half-step away from Steve, refusing to look away from the younger man as he finally answered truthfully, finally giving in to Steve’s demand as he felt his hands shake like a leaf from more than just the cold.

“You want the truth, Steve? I’m a fucking coward. You’re damned right, I’m downright terrified of anyone finding out about my personal life; I’ve worked so hard to get where I am today, and rumors spread fast around here, they can make or break your career if people don’t respect you.” His voice was quiet, every word punctuated with the slightly-unsure edge he’d taken on since having gone deaf. “I know how horrible of a person I am, to have someone as kind, and supportive and beautiful as James,” Clint had to compose himself a moment, “And to still be afraid of what his coworkers thought of him… Being poly isn’t exactly an easy thing for a lot of people to wrap their heads around. But it’s no excuse for the way I’ve treated him. I’m so sorry.”

“It isn’t me you should be apologizing to, for the record.” Steve answered, humbled slightly by Clint’s confession. He shivered when a breeze brought a whirlwind of light snowflakes whipping around them.

“Steve, I’m begging you…” Clint’s eyes had grown misty and his face felt hot against the cold wind. “Please, James wants to stay with me, at least until Natasha gets back… I don’t know what I would do without his help. The last time I was alone like this,” Clint finally cast his eyes toward the ground, his face growing dark as he remembered the time he spent in his bedroom, too depressed to even take care of himself on the most basic levels. He never wanted to feel so low again, the thought of being alone formed an uncomfortable pit in his stomach. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Natasha would be working in his absence, and he was thankful for it, but by no means did that make the thought of living alone for a month any more enjoyable. “It didn’t end well, to say the least."

"Clint-" Steve started, but Clint interrupted him desperately.

"Just- ask James… give him a chance to make the decision for himself, Steve. Please.”

***


	7. My Home is Only Home With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and James come to a shaky compromise, and Clint showers love on the people he cares about. Will Bucky be able to feel safe in Clint's apartment, or would he rather be at home with Steve and Sam, where he knows he'll be safe but confined?
> 
> \--
> 
> Only maybe one or two more chapters left on this one, but I've enjoyed writing it immensely. Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read it.

James paced back and forth anxiously, no longer able to lie back down on the bed as Sam watched him sympathetically.

“Just try and relax,” Sam urged James cautiously.

“That really doesn’t make me feel any better.” James shot back quickly, looking irate. Sam’s normally chipper expression fell slightly, and James felt a twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry, Sam. I know you’re just trying to help.” His eyes snapped at the door as Steve wrenched it open slowly in the hopes that James was still asleep and oblivious to what had just happened, but Steve quickly realized this wasn’t the case, as James’s scowling face greeted him the moment the door swung open on its hinges. Clint stood just behind Steve, looking slightly crestfallen at the way Bucky was reacting.

“Oh, hey Buck… Glad to see you’re up already.”

“Are you sure about that?” Bucky’s voice was cold, his eyes narrowed as he looked back at them suspiciously.

“Did you sleep alright, James?” Clint cut in hopefully, but James practically looked right through him when he mumbled his answer.

“ _Fine.”_

“Buck… You and I need to have a private conversation. Do you feel like you’re up for that, or do you need a little more time to sleep?” Bucky felt hesitant to answer, steeling himself for what could be a horrible, anxiety-ridden ordeal, watching Steve and Clint’s reactions as he nodded slowly, finally answering Steve carefully.

“Lead the way.” Steve bobbed his head curtly, motioning for Bucky to follow him as Sam and Clint sat idly by, watching them go. When Bucky and Steve were safely out of earshot, Clint’s nerves got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but ask Sam,

“Has he been awake for very long?” Sam shook his head negatively, “How did he take the news about Steve and I going off to talk?”

“You could say ‘not well’.” Sam answered calmly, and Clint swore.

“Shit.” He shook his head, his expression clouding visibly with worry. “And I have no idea what Steve is going to tell him, even after our little chat.”

“Couldn’t convince him to let James stay, after all?” Sam sounded unsurprised, but not malicious.

“I’m not sure that’s what Bucky even wants after this ordeal, if I’m being honest.” Clint sighed heavily, “At this point, I just want to make sure he’s the one who makes the choice: stay or go. I don’t care about how it will make me feel, as long as I know it was his choice to make.” Sam nodded solemnly.

“I can respect that… After all, I’ve been vying for James’s independence for a while now.” Sam sighed again, “Steve is a man full of love, but stubborn as a mule. If we’re lucky, he has come to his senses and is giving James that chance for himself, now.” Clint nodded in agreement hopefully, before Sam looked away, his attention was drawn by a concise rapping on the wooden door frame.

Clint’s eyes widened when Fury let himself into the room calmly, asking,

“Barton, I hope I’m not intruding, but I need to update you on a few things that have developed since we spoke last.”

“Sorry, Sam.” Clint mumbled, and Sam quickly moved to excuse himself. “Oh, Sam, you can stay here, Nick and I can find a more appropriate place to talk.” Sam’s eyebrows raised as Clint motioned for him to stay where he was.

 

***

Fury and Clint crawled through the twisting hallways at their own pace, Nick making sure he spoke as clearly as he could in the fluorescent lit passageway to assist Clint’s lip reading where he could.

“Once again,” Fury started, wishing Clint could hear the hint of pride in his voice. “Romanoff has proven to be an exceptional asset to this organization, and this country.”

“Sir?” Clint asked, one eyebrow raised; he knew Fury couldn’t be implying what Clint thought he was implying… could he?

“Your brother has agreed to give SHIELD his full cooperation. He is donating blood samples to help Banner and Stark synthesize a vaccine as we speak.” Clint could practically feel his jaw hit the floor as he read his boss’s lips.

“H-how?” Clint stammered, feeling dumbstruck with relief and confusion at the same time.

“Natasha is one hell of an interrogator.” Fury shrugged, and Clint had to admit, he had a point.

“So, Barney gains our trust… just like that?” Clint asked, still feeling a little queasy and overwhelmed over the realization that he and Barney really were under the same roof again, and healthy.

Nick shrugged his shoulders again, noncommittally.

“Tentatively, for now.” He admitted, “At least until we can verify his intel is good.”

“And then?” Clint pressed, but Fury refused to give him any more information. Clint pouted,

“Nothing is set in stone, yet, Barton.”

 

***

“I’m pretty sure there’s no reason to beat around the bush anymore, Buck.” Steve’s body language was tense and tight as they stood next to each other in front of the glass paneled lobby doors.

“I suppose not.” James answered back, matching Steve’s intensity beat-for-beat. “So, what did the two of you decide? I know you and Clint were talking about me like I’m not here again.” Bucky’s voice was cold, mirthless; this was the Bucky Steve hadn’t seen in a long while - Bucky’s self-destructive defense mechanism that used to rear its ugly head like clockwork back before Clint had re-appeared in their lives. Steve had to admit, he hadn’t missed this spiteful, combatitive side of his normally docile, calm friend.

“Clint and Sam and I only want what’s best for you… you know that by now, right, Buck?” Steve asked, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Buck, I’m being serious right now.”

“What do you want from me?” Bucky looked back at Steve pleadingly. “I already know what you’re going to say, so why bother even pretending otherwise?” He threw his arms in the air in frustration.

“James-“ Bucky shivered; Steve never used that name with him. “Sam and I have to leave the state today. We have jobs that are expecting us to be back first thing in the morning.” Steve’s voice was quiet, and Bucky had his eyes clamped tightly shut as he continued; Bucky realized suddenly that he had been holding his breath until Steve spoke.

“Do you really want Sam and I to leave you here, unaccompanied, in a completely new environment where, not only do you know one person in the entirecity, but you were also just violently assaulted in the same apartment where you’ll be staying?” Bucky slowly opened his eyes, surprised to see the genuine moral battle going on in Steve’s head at the moment.

“And what did Clint have to say about all this?” James asked with interest.

“At first, he said you wanted to be here, but when I pressed him on it, he became less sure.” Steve told Bucky honestly, “By the end of our conversation, he said he doesn’t want you to be forced into anything; no matter what happens… Clint just wants to know you were the one making the final decision.” James nodded in acknowledgement as Steve said it; even though he was angry that Clint would agree to speak to Steve behind his back, he felt better knowing Clint was still fighting for his independence above all else.

“Buck…” Steve interrupted James’s train of thought quietly, but his voice was firm. “My question still stands.” James swayed back and forth in his seat, caught halfway between wanting to say what he really felt, and wanting to say what he figured Steve wanted to hear. His voice shook as he stared back at Steve disbelievingly, his heart hammering in his chest.

“A-Are you really going to let me choose whether I stay here with Clint until Natasha comes back or go home with you and Sam?”Steve was astounded by how immediately James’s demeanor shifted as he asked the question, his face lightening into a tiny hint of a smile at the idea.

“I don’t know, Buck…” Steve hesitated, and the way Bucky’s smile faded immediately nearly gutted him. “You both aren’t in the greatest of shape to be trying to take care of each other, and I’m worried about what staying in Clint’s apartment might do to you-“

“Steve, I can’t guarantee everything will be sunshine and rainbows all the time,” Bucky started, running his metal hand through his unwashed hair quickly. “But you’ve seen Natalia, right? She wants to recommend me to a specialist, if I’m allowed to stay.” Steve watched Bucky speak animatedly. “Who knows, if things go well, I could even try to get a part time job or something!” Steve cleared his throat gently.

“I thought this was just supposed to be until Natasha gets back, or until Clint gets better?” Bucky nodded slowly, setting his jaw tighter at Steve’s limiting statement.

“Yeah… I just… don’t know how long either of those things will take. It could be a few days, weeks, or God forbid, months, Steve.” Bucky sighed heavily and Steve took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“At least you’re thinking positively, I guess…” Steve conceded, nodding despite the look of trepidation on his face.

 

***

“You’re being released today.” Nick told Clint happily, “The nurses have been telling me you’ve been making progress, particularly since Mister Barnes’s arrival.” Clint closed his eyes, shaking his head as Fury mentioned James, which meant lots of other people had probably mentioned James.

“So, I take it everyone’s noticed James’s particular effect on me, then?”

“There aren’t any rumors outside the normal ones that tend to circulate around here. Nothing out of the ordinary involving you, anyway.” Fury chuckled, before adding, “I did have a hell of a time convincing the council to look past the redacted portion of footage from both you and Natasha’s interviews regarding the fidelity of an ongoing relationship between two of my best field agents. Not to mention them finding out about the link between my best sniper and the largest biological terrorist threat we’ve seen in years.”

“Yeah, it’s been a lot of fun.” Clint scowled, and Fury sighed, apologizing.

“I wasn’t trying to complain, Barton, I’m sorry. I know none of this has been particularly easy for you.” Nick extended a hand to shake Clint’s firmly. “Now, I think you deserve some time to heal. I’m sorry Natasha won’t be able to join you just yet, but when she’s finished, I will see to it personally that the two of you get the paid leave time you’re owed, and then some.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Clint tried to wipe the surprised look off his face, smiling with gratitude instead.

“Oh, and I went ahead and scheduled an appointment for Barnes with the trauma specialist Natasha requested; I’ve got an appointment card for him here.” Fury handed the small pressed card to Clint, who was dumbstruck and didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Nick.” Clint told him sincerely.

“Just focus on getting well, Clint.” Fury clapped Clint on the back heartily. “Natasha’s detail will be leaving in a few hours. I’d recommend you and Barnes get your goodbyes in before then.”

 

***

“You’re absolutely fucking incredible, you know that?” Clint had drawn Natasha into a warm embrace, his forehead settling against hers as he beamed with pride.

“So I’m told.” Natasha smiled back at him, glad to see him in such a good mood after the trying last few days.

“It’s the truth.” Clint assured her, closing the gap between their lips with a quick kiss before moving back to let her go.

“Well, I hope that means wrapping this up won’t take very long, then.” Natasha looked back at him gratefully, and James cleared his throat from behind Clint.

“We’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” He added, and Natasha smiled brilliantly athim.

“You’d better be. I’m counting on you to make sure Clint doesn’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“I’ll do my best.” James smiled back at her, still not quite sure if he was ready to believe it was really happening or not. Steve and Sam were making a trip back to their hotel to pack before James and Clint dropped them off at the airport. Steve still seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the idea, but James had assured him they would keep in touch with him in some form daily, at least until he felt reassured that things would be alright without him there, and Sam was standing by for support through it all.

“We’ll be keeping an eye on each other, don’t worry.” Clint added, motioning for James to step closer to them. “And you’ll be back to join us soon enough.”

“Thank you, Clint.” Natasha nodded back at him, her lips thin as she knew, she wanted desperately to stay with them; Nick was waiting in the hall to escort her to the hangar, but he’d given them some privacy to say their goodbyes. “If the opportunity arises, I’ll try to call and check in every once in a while.”

“Only if you know it’s safe.” Clint nodded, his hands still holding hers.

“Of course.” Natasha bobbed her head in time with Clint’s. “But it could be a while. I just don’t want you to worry.”

“We’ll be alright, Nat, I promise.” Clint leaned in and kissed her on the cheek one last time, and invited James to trade places with him.

James pulled Natasha close to him, her head tilted back slightly to see his face above hers, and James wished he didn’t have to say goodbye to her.

“ _Natalia-“_ He hesitated, _“_ _Byt' ostorozhen (be careful).”_ He kissed her forehead gently, his hands twining around the back of her neck and through her hair as she allowed herself to press in against his chest for just a moment longer. “Please come back safe.” The hint of fear in his voice made Natasha’s heart beat faster as she heard Fury knock on the door gently, signaling that their time had come to an end.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Natasha pulled James down into a kiss, wishing she could do more to convince him that she would be fine. “And don’t have too much fun without me.” Natasha winked as she forced herself to pull away from James’s touch, and she thought the look on his face would kill her; Clint stepped beside him, wrapping an arm around James’s shoulders as he waved at Natasha lazily, giving her one of the biggest genuine smiles she had seen from him in ages… it made leaving just a little easier, knowing Clint was going to be alright with James there, even if the road ahead of him looked unpleasant.

Natasha opened the door slowly, nodding at Fury as he motioned for her to follow him toward the massive hangar bay where her operations team was waiting for her. Clint had been glad to hear that Banner and Stark had immediately volunteered to accompany Natasha’s team in the event that they were exposed to any contamination while infiltrating the facility Barney had named as Sewell’s most recent base of operations. She’d already been vaccinated against the same strains as Barney, but Clint still feared for any new strains of the virus that might have been developed since Barney’s last inoculation. Natasha turned back to face Fury one last time before she boarded the aircraft, telling him,

“Thank you, Nick, for everything you’ve done for Clint and James. It means a lot.” Nick smiled back at her, nodding in acknowledgement.

“You don’t meet a person like Clint every day… I’m very proud to call him a friend.” Natasha smiled brightly, and Nick added, “Now get out there and kick some ass.”

 

***

“I’ll call you when we land, just so you know we made it home safely.” Steve assured Bucky, who nodded gratefully, his teeth worrying over his lower lip for what seemed like the hundredth time since they’d stepped into the car that took them to the airport from the SHIELD facility.

“Thank you.” James’s voice was soft, and reserved. Clint was standing behind the three of them, watching fondly as James stood close to Steve, looking halfway between sad and happy, unsure of how exactly he was supposed to be feeling at the moment. For the first time, ever, since James’s recovery after his capture, Steve was finally agreeing to let him choose his own path; even if it was only temporary. James was anxious at the thought of not having Steve nearby, but he felt elated to be given the chance to prove himself to everyone who doubted him.

“Take good care of each other.” Sam nodded at Clint, and Clint smiled back, stepping closer to shake his hand.

“Travel safely, Sam.” James leaned appreciatively against Clint, who had wrapped an arm around James’s shoulder as they watched Sam and Steve walk through the TSA checkpoint and on to the security system. They waited until they could no longer see Sam and Steve on the other side of the security equipment before James finally sighed heavily, tearing his gaze away.

“Now what?” James asked, sounding more tired than anything else as he looked at the groups of people that filled the airport terminal around them.

“Whatever you want, Buck.” Clint smiled cheerfully. “But first, it’s been days since I last smoked a cigarette, and I’m dying for some nicotine.” James’s eyebrows wrinkled when Clint pulled a crushed pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, shaking a sad-looking cigarette into his hand as they crossed through the terminal and out the doors, pausing outside the building to stand next to the nearest ashtray.

Clint turned his back to the wind as they stood outside in the cold, trying to block the as much of the vicious gusts from both Bucky and the cigarette he was having difficulty lighting as he could. After a moment or two of flicking his lighter unsuccessfully, Clint finally managed to hunch over enough to catch the flame against the end of his cigarette as he pulled in air, feeling the heady smoke fill his lungs as the tobacco caught alight. Breathing deeply, Clint straightened up again, allowing the cigarette to dangle between his lips as he looked at James gratefully.

“Thank you.” He picked the cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers, nodding at it as he spoke to James.

“For what?” James asked, the cold starting to sink in through his thin jacket. He huddled a little closer to Clint, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he tried to ignore the dull aches that were starting to ebb in.

“For everything…” Clint started, taking another deep draw from the cigarette as he savored the feeling of the nicotine entering his bloodstream. “For staying, for volunteering to take care of me, for not giving me the stink eye when I’m dying for a smoke-“ James laughed at that, holding his hand out for Clint to pass the cigarette to share with him. “Lately, Nat’s been trying to get me to quit…”

“I guess I probably shouldn’t be smoking, then, either.” James said, but he still put the cigarette to his lips, allowing the scent to fill his nostrils, making his head spin a little as he took in the scent that reminded him so immediately of Clint.

“Well, after this last weekend, I think she’d understand.” Clint supplied as he accepted the cigarette back from James, listening to the ember at the end of it crackle as another gust of wind whipped around them.

Another few minutes, and Clint had finished the cigarette, stubbing it into the ashtray next to him before he turned back to face James again; James was now chilled to the bone, trying to keep his teeth from chattering when Clint noticed he was visibly shaking from the cold.

“Oh, shit, James-“ He grabbed the younger man by the hand, leading him back into the double doors that separated the airport terminal from the carport drop-off area to warm him up while Clint looked around for a cab he could hail. “You should have told me you were getting cold, we could’ve moved inside ages ago!”

“S-sorry.” James apologized, and Clint rubbed his arm over James’s jacket, generating a little warmth with the friction before he patted James gently. Looking up, James watched Clint rush out the door, waving his arm to get the attention of a taxi driver who was just about to drive away. After a moment of hesitation, Clint opened the door to the car, motioning for James to join him, and they were finally on their way back to Clint’s apartment for the first time in what seemed like ages. James swallowed hard, his pulse quickening at the thought of finding someone or something unpleasant in Clint’s bedroom after his last experience, and his spine felt chilled for reasons beyond the cold.

 

***

It took James almost a full minute to shake himself into climbing out of the back seat of the cab. Thankfully, Clint was taking care of paying the driver in that amount of time, and James finally willed his legs to move before causing any fuss. He was breathing in short, shallow bursts as he stood stock-still outside Clint’s building, and Clint knew James was struggling with the idea of returning to the place he’d been shot at, and Clint couldn’t blame him for it.

“If you want, we can go somewhere else,” Clint told James gently, when he opened the door, but the younger man stood rooted to the spot, unable to follow, even though he wished his feet would move. “At least for a little while.” James thought a moment, then shook his head.

“It’s got to happen eventually.” He swallowed thickly, and Clint let the door close behind him, walking back to stand next to James on the sidewalk. “Might as well be now.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Clint asked, his features soft. James’s eyebrows drew together and he bit his lip thoughtfully.

“C-could you, maybe, do a quick sweep… before I go in, just in case there’s any-“ Clint nodded before James could finish the thought, and James was grateful he didn’t have to say the words in his head out loud. _If there’s any blood._ His mind finished bitterly, and James shivered even harder. This time he knew it was more than just the cold.

“Absolutely. Let’s just get you in the building where it’s warm, at least, and I’ll check things out while you wait.” James nodded slowly, trying to force himself to move. “Do you want to wait out in the hall, alone, or would you rather I see if Simone’s home? She’s got two little kids, both boys…” Clint’s grin was big when he mentioned them. “They’re great.”

“I think I’ll be alright in the hall.” James answered, his voice small as his feet finally listened to him, and he crossed the sidewalk to Clint, who lead the younger man inside by the hand, away from all the wind, the snow and the bitter cold.

James’s stomach felt as if he’d swallowed a giant lump of ice before crossing the threshold, feeling something heavy and unpleasant in his stomach. Clint took the stairs one at a time, slow and steady, refusing to let go of James’s hand lest he stop moving and fall prey to the paralyzing fear again.

“You still with me?” Clint asked James when they reached the halfway point of the stairwell, turning back to read James’s lips. It took the younger man a moment to answer, his chest still restricted with the effort of the climb.

“You won’t lose me that easy.” His response put a smile on Clint’s face, prompting them to continue on until they reached the landing of Clint’s floor, where James once again came to a complete standstill in the middle of the hall.

“Just wait here.” Clint looked back at James, biting his lips with concern; he forced himself to tear his gaze away, just praying James flight reflex wouldn’t kick in while he wasn’t looking. Clint slipped his key into the door quickly, unlocking the deadbolt first, and then the doorknob before he finally pushed the door open on its hinges. He glanced backward quickly over his shoulder, glad to see Bucky was still standing behind him, but the pained look on Bucky’s face made Clint uneasy nonetheless. The moment Clint crossed over the threshold to his apartment, he knew something was… different. He walked through the apartment slowly, sweeping his eyes over every surface, feeling slight anxiety when he realized just how _ridiculously_ _clean_ his apartment had somehow gotten, and his stomach dropped out slightly. He didn’t know whether to be happy or scared, until he noticed a familiar, purple-fletched dart stuck in the bullseye of the dartboard he’d hung in his living room years ago; there was a small slip of paper stuck through with the dart, and he laughed with relief when he recognized the feminine, loopy handwriting in purple ink.

He rushed through the living room to the door of his bedroom, checking each area of the apartment as he read Kate’s note quickly.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Clint-_

_Natasha couldn’t tell me the whole story, and I understand why. But, she called and gave me the broad strokes; your brother is the biggest dick to ever dick, and she asked me to break in here and clean things up a little bit here so that you and James wouldn’t have to worry about it when you got home._

_You owe me. Coffee, or something… When you feel like talking._

_Text me. I actually miss your sad ass._

_-KB_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clint smiled fondly as he folded up the scrap of paper and put it into his pocket, surprised to see that Kate had taken the liberty of re-arranging his bedroom furniture. Clint knew there were few secrets between Kate and himself, but he still hoped there were certain things she didn’t stumble on when doing things like this in his room… He pushed the thought out of his mind, glad that the idea had been to make James more comfortable by having Clint’s home look just different enough that he wouldn’t feel panicked. Clint prayed it would work as he walked back through the apartment to his front door.

“Alright, James, I think it should be alright.” James still looked pale and nervous, and Clint wondered just how much James had had to sleep or eat in the last few days. He hoped James would accept the opportunity to relax a little, before they decided to face the real world again any time soon.

“Y-you’re sure?” James looked back at Clint for reassurance.

“I’m positive. Kate cleaned for us, as a favor for Nat.”

Clint was relieved when James seemed a little less tense as he stepped into Clint’s apartment, immediately smelling the after-effects of some of the more abrasive cleaning products she’d used, but James was thankful; the smell of clorox and febreze masked the smell of gunpowder well enough that he could feel his legs again, and that was at least an improvement.

“Alright… I think I’m going to be ok, for now.” James said slowly, and Clint smiled back at him appreciatively.

“We’ll have to have Kate over to thank her, some time. I’ll have to introduce the two of you… ” James’s cheeks flushed slightly when he remembered the way Kate had stared at him during their last encounter, and Clint’s interest was suddenly peaked. “What’s that about-“ He pointed at James’s red face, and the younger man immediately turned away, embarrassed. “Come on, James, why are you blushing?”

“I may or may not have already met Kate when she broke in here when Natasha and I were getting dressed…” Clint cackled with glee, throwing his head back at the thought of the look on Kate’s face.

“Oh my God, I wish Natasha had taken a picture!” Clint’s addition made James laugh out loud, too.

_***_


End file.
